


Avalanche

by Jimminy_Cricket



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Broadway References, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, I dunno I'm not a doctor, Illness, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Multi, Music, Recovery, Romance, Slow Build, Smut, Team as Family, we've got it all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimminy_Cricket/pseuds/Jimminy_Cricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve taught her the lesson the first time they met. </p><p>“You know, I can’t imagine it. Being an Avenger.” Annie confessed. She speared a piece of pineapple on her long-stemmed fork and dragged it lazily through the chocolate. “I mean, how do you do it?”</p><p>Steve shrugged. “Its not as hard as you’d think.” He said. “It’s a lot like being a soldier.”</p><p>Annie shook her head. “No, I don’t mean-“ she hesitated, “I don’t mean the fighting. I understand that. What I don’t get is how you know.” She said pointedly, looking sincerely baffled. “The Avengers… you, how do you know which calls to make? From the stories I’ve heard from Ms Potts…” she stopped again, a slight frown creasing her brow. “I just don’t know if I would be able to know what the right decision was, in the moment, you know?”</p><p>“It’s-“ Steve tried to hunt for the right words. “Like I said. Its easier than you think.” Annie raised an eyebrow and he leaned forward. “No, really. The way I see it, in the moment you find the guy tryin’ to hurt people and… and you just have to ask yourself one thing. What does this guy want to do? You ask that and then you do your best to get in the goddamned way.”</p><p>She takes it to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

When Annie was six years old her folks sat her down in their little living room and told her, choose.

Annie could remember chewing her lip and swinging her bare feet against the couch, thumping a steady rhythm into the quiet of the room.

“Its up t’you, _a leanbh_.” Her Da had said solemnly. “There’s no wrong answer.”

The walls in their house were painted a muted sort of yellow, but you couldn’t really tell unless you looked really closely. They were covered, almost every inch. Framed photographs, faded brown and grey, of people Da had always said were family but who Annie had never met. Paintings of their little flat top island, of boats in harbour, even a few pictures of her Da’s old Navy friends. Mostly, though, the walls were lined with her Mum’s instruments.

Annie’d learned her letters that way, sitting with Mum, repeating “A for Accordion, B for Banjo, C for Clarinet...” Mum had one of everything, and could play them all. Da said Mum was a genius.

Her Mum had smiled and reached to tuck a curl behind Annie’s ear. “You can always change your mind after, duckie.”

She’d nodded and sat very, very still for a moment, thinking. It was a big decision, not like when Gran had asked her to pick dessert for Easter supper. It felt big as the ocean. It meant that she was a big girl now, grown up in a way, and Annie wanted to get it right.

It took a few moments, a lifetime in her mind, but she finally came up with an answer.

“Both.” She’d said imperiously.

Her parents had shared a look that Annie was old enough to know meant something serious.

“Piano and Ballet?” her Mum had sat next to her on the couch.

Annie’d nodded. “And singing.” She added.

She could see Mum was trying not to smile. “You wont have time to play, if you want all those lessons. And you’ll keep up with your homework, else there’ll be none at all.”

Annie’s heart thumped wildly and she grabbed at her Mum’s arm, tilting to make sure that she was really really listening.

“Mum, I don’t want to play.” She tried to make it plain, to make it so that the feeling in her heart was coming out of her mouth in the right way. “I want to _play_.”

Her Dad had laughed, her Mum had smiled, all sunny, and Annie knew that she’d picked the right thing.

By the time Annie was eight, she was making to the trek across the Tickle to St John’s five nights a week. She’d had Ballet at Miss Laura’s and Step class with Miss Lisa, regular singing lessons with Deirdre (who’s office at the University was next to Mum’s) and their neighbour, Doctor Joe, liked her voice so much that he’d paid for opera lessons from a lady who’d retired to Paradise because she’d liked the name. Her favorite lessons, though, were with her Mum.

Her Mum taught her how to play, how to curl her fingers high and light over the piano keys and how to hold the bow of the fiddle, and how to make her Da’s guitar sound as honey-warm as their house felt when they played together. Annie learned all the songs her Mum knew, songs from St Johns and Gander and all the way from Ireland, Scotland even. Da taught her what all the Gaelic words meant, too, how to curl her tongue around them and make them skip along like a river.

The friends she made were few (They called her ‘Radio Ryan’ in school, raised their voices to drown her out, made her sit down shut up _stop talking_ ), but dear. Mostly other girls who had the same fire in their eyes, who didn’t flinch when their bodies creaked and cracked, who knew what it was like to want to see their name in lights as bright as the stars over the ocean. Friends who didn’t want to play, but wanted to play.

By Annie’s eleventh birthday, her Da would swear that she was more callous than girl and sometimes Annie believed him. The skin of her hands and feet were tough as rocks, and she could go running along the dunes midday in July barefoot. That year, Annie auditioned for (and won) a spot at the National Ballet School and she’d heard her Da talking with a man at one of the festivals she’d played that summer and heard the words _Album_ and _Contract_.

So two roads diverged, and Annie, who was a stubborn little thing, took both.

Which, somehow, led to waiting in line at a Starbucks in the heart of Manhattan in the middle of the Monday morning rush.

Every now and then, Annie thought, living in New York City felt like drowning.

Annie had grown up with salt air in her lungs and the melody of gulls outside the window of her bedroom, but New York was the closest thing she’d ever seen to an ocean on land. It moved the same way. Breathed the same way her father had shown her the tide would breathe, in and out, high and low, day after day until Annie felt small as a pebble on the shore.

Her father, William, had been a decorated Captain in the Royal Canadian Navy who’d spent nearly all of his service in Search and Rescue.

“You have to want it, Annie.” He told her once. The memory of his eyes, serious beneath his brow, kept fresh in her mind. (Some days, it was all she could remember of him.) “If you’re out there in the water, you have to want to live more’n anything you’ve ever wanted in your life and you cant give up. Not ever. I’ve seen people, Olympic level swimmers, who couldn’t make it out of the water because they didn’t have it in ‘em.” She could remember his hand, broad on her skinny shoulder. “You’ve got to find something inside of you, and you don’t let go. That’s how you survive, _a leanbh._ ”

Her Da had taught her how to swim, to hold her breath, to keep calm and tread water. He’d taught her how to build a fire, how to make a splint, even how to navigate using the stars. But he’d died long before Annie had packed up everything she owned and bet all her chips on a move to New York.

So far, the bet had been kind of a bust.

Annie made it to the counter and she smiled, spotting one of the regular Monday morning baristas waiting at the cash.

“Morning Jess!” she said.

Jess smiled in return, even as she moved to grab a stack of cups. “Good morning! The usual?” she prompted.

Annie nodded and fished out her wallet. She’d counted the change on the train down from Harlem this morning, because after six months Annie knew the total down to the penny. The Starbucks was located in the main lobby of Stark Tower (it had been affectionately been termed the Starkbucks long before Annie started working for SI) and every Monday without fail, Annie made it a point to grab coffee for a few people around the office.

At first it had just been for her new boss, Ms Potts. There must have been some small miracle at work for Annie to have landed a job as one of her personal assistants, and Annie wanted to make sure that Ms Potts knew just how much the opportunity meant to her. So, she’d found out her coffee order from one of the other assistants (grande non-fat earl grey tea latte) and had had it waiting on her desk on her first day. The next week, Annie thought it would be nice to get something for the other two assistants Jim and Tanya (grande Americano, grande green tea one honey) and they’d been pleasantly surprised. Her Mum had always taught her that a little act of kindness could go a long way, and Annie would freely admit that she was banking on that kindness working its way back to her one day. Plus, Monday mornings sucked and if a hot drink helped to make them better? Well, it wasn’t exactly hard.

Six months in to the weekly pilgrimage, Annie’s list had doubled, but the orders never changed.

“The usual.” Annie confirmed, thankful that ‘the usual’ took eight times less to say than the big list of drinks. Some days, if she got to the Starkbucks early enough, half the drinks would be ready by the time she was finished paying.

An uncomfortable look flitted across Jess’ face, just for a moment. “Uh... oh gosh. Sorry, but, can I have a name for the cups?”

Oh. Annie blinked, but kept the frown from her face and plastered on an unbothered smile and laughed a little. “Sure thing. No worries! It’s Annie.”

She handed the over the 37.46 and tried not to feel too silly while she waited on her order. Sure, she was a regular, but then again the 20 other people waiting in line probably were as well. Still, when all eight cups had “Tammy” written on the side, Annie couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of cosmic sign.

Annie had come to New York with her life in a U-Haul, an offer for an internship that would guarantee a working VISA and three auditions for shows on Broadway. Not off-off or even just off-Broadway. ON.

And after six months of busting her ass, she couldn’t even get the barista to get her name right.

There wasn’t time for an existential crisis, though, so Annie juggled her purse and two stacked trays of drinks into her arms and made her way across the wide main lobby to the security check in front of the long bank of elevators. There were already two large tour groups huddled together, high school kids if Annie had to guess. God but they looked young. When did they start letting babies go to high school? And, she scowled, why couldn’t they get the babies to stick together? There were kids screeching and taking poorly lit selfies all over the lobby.

Annie skirted around the hoard with a quick prayer to the Gods of Blouses and Coffee stains, and managed to slip into her usual security line unscathed. She knew it was silly to have a ‘usual’ line, but between her parents and the years she’d spent in various theatres, superstition was bred into her. So, yes, she walked alllll the way to the far east wall even though there were three other open lines, and waited for her turn.

Annie was honestly surprised that SI still had a physical security check. When she’d been given the official HR briefing, they’d been very proud and eager to tell her that Stark Tower had nothing but the newest security technology. There were a series of scanners hidden at all points of entry to the Tower that could run facial and biometric scans to detect if anyone who’d been flagged was trying to get in. They’d made it very clear that being flagged was a Very Bad Thing and Annie had nodded dutifully, really wanting to ask if there were lasers, but also really not wanting to know the answer. She’d always figured that the scanners would have also doubled as a personnel check, but the gossip around the office was that Stark’s head of security had a soft spot for the tried and true methods.

It was all very James Bond. Some mornings Annie let her mind wander to fantasies of being a corporate spy, maybe having to disarm and disable a few security guards without a word... moving like a shadow, racing against the clock to retrieve the information that would dismantle the Evil Corporation’s operations. (She’d play the hero, of course. An interpretation of the Black Widow, maybe. Veronica Rothman, trained as a spy since the untimely death of her father... always ethically ambiguous, but trying to redeem a shadowy past. Something meaty. A part to sink her teeth into.)

Not that Stark Industries was an Evil Corporation. They were like, the patron saint of capitalist ventures, and Annie really appreciated the work they did. She just had an overactive imagination.

Today wasn’t a day for daydreams, though. So, when Annie got to the head of the line, she set the tray of coffee on the security desk and fished her pass out of her purse.

“Good morning Carl!” Annie handed over her pass and a tall Americano with two sugars. Carl was her favorite security guard, a serious looking man of middling age with hair as grey as his eyes and a Tom Selleck moustache.

“Mornin’ sugar, well now aren’t you sweet!” he crowed his usual greeting, taking both with a wink and a smile that brightened his whole face.

Annie had never seen such a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, and she loved it. Carl was like that meme on Tumblr. He looked like he would kill you, but was a total cinnamon roll.

“Did you have a good weekend?” Annie asked, shifting the trays back into her arms while Carl did whatever he had to with her pass.

Carl grinned “Well if you count Joe surprising me with tickets to Beyonce tomorrow night good, then yes.” He took a slow sip of his coffee and sighed happily. “My weekend was absolutely splendid.”

Annie laughed “Lucky! That’s one hell of a husband you have. Watch out,” she winked, “I might just try to steal him.” Annie knew of at least 3 people in the PR department alone who would give a kidney to get tickets to that show.

“Don’t I know it!” Carl tapped away at his keyboard and a green light lit up above his desk, signaling that she was clear to go. “Tickets to Madison Square Garden? I’m going to have to marry that man again.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it.” Annie smiled. She hadn’t even tried to see about a ticket. There was a workshop she’d signed up for weeks ago, a class that, if the rumours were right, was going to be visited by Bernadette Peters. Sigh, swoon and flutter! She’d managed to snag one of the last spots, and had spent most of her savings doing so, but even if Lady Bernadette didn’t show the class was going to be a great networking opportunity.

“Will do!” Carl chirped and held out her pass. Annie managed to sneak a hand out to take it. “Have a good day Miss-“ and Annie wanted to, really really wanted to be able to ignore the fact that she saw his eyes flick down to read her name off the pass, but she’d never been good at lying to herself. “Miss Ryan.”

Six months.

Annie smiled like she was taking headshots.

“Bye Carl.” she said. Feeling acutely embarrassed she turned, scurried to the elevators and twisted her wrist to press her thumb to the sensor. And because she was being punished for something, she was left waiting, staring at the doors and fighting her blush for what seemed like years.

Eventually a few people in slick suits (Legal, probably) joined her and they all boarded the elevator. There was another sensor there, with a keypad, and Annie jockeyed for position to punch in level 97.

Stark Tower wasn’t the tallest office tower in the world, Annie’s HR packet had informed her, but it was the tallest office tower in New York City, and in the Western Hemisphere. It stood at 110 floors. The first 70 were for general operations of Stark Industries. Offices for Legal, Public Relations, Advertising... a couple of floors were dedication to recreation with an office gym, a pool and even a daycare. After floor 70, access began to get restricted to those with Research and Development permissions. 70-100 were all floors for engineering, IT, medical technologies, arc reactor technology...

The 101st floor belonged to Ms Potts. She had her own office there and other smaller offices for peons like Annie, Jim and Tanya. Board meetings all happened on the 101st floor, and part of Annie’s job was to make sure the boardrooms were all well stocked and prepared for any and all meetings that might crop up. Which meant that there were at least 3 different varieties of imported bottled water, 6 types of fresh roasted coffee and daily fresh fruit and pastries always on hand.

Annie wasn’t sure what was on floors 102-110, only that that was Avengers Territory and was Strictly Verboten.

Which was fine by her. She was more than happy to give the superheroes their space to be... super.

The slick suits all got off somewhere around the fortieth floor, and Annie was thankful that Stark Tower had the fastest elevator in the world because even with it being powered by Arc technology it still took 2 and half minutes to get from the lobby to the 97th floor.

It was one of the more impressive R&D levels, and looked a bit like a children’s science centre and a junkyard had a torrid affair and popped out a scrap-metal filled playground for scientists to frolic in. The whole floor was mostly open-concept, with a few load bearing pillars to hold the ceiling up. There were scientific instruments in every corner, whirring and beeping and taking readings and taking readings of the readings. Or so Annie supposed. She left University with a couple of credits in Performance Arts, not even a degree, so what did she know? There were video displays and holographic displays, and even a large rolling chalkboard that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the old schoolhouse back home, most with math splashed about. Though, on the chalkboard, Annie could see a caricature of the Hulk using Iron Man like some sort of magic carpet.

Annie tried not to pay much attention to The Intimidating Machines, though, and headed straight for the desks arranged in the middle of the room.

She’d met Darcy on her first day at the tower. Part of her HR walkthrough was to visit each of the floors that Ms Potts would be sending most of her correspondence to, should Annie ever need to deliver papers or fetch a signature or two. So Rachel, the HR rep, had brought her to what they’d assumed would be an empty 97th floor.

Well, Darcy, in a pair of Winnie the Pooh flannel pj pants and a shirt with a cartoon Hulk face, had fallen of her chair with a shriek when she noticed them come in. She’d been monitoring some data for Dr Foster all night, she said once she’d recovered, and hadn’t expected anyone to come by. Once she learned that Annie was Pepper’s new assistant, though, she was nothing but welcoming. All smiles and jokes, cracking wise about having another lackey to shoot the shit with.

And oh, but did Annie want to be her friend. (Okay, maybe at first Annie felt a little more smitten than friendly, but her crush never really manifested beyond the occasional _yowza_ when Darcy wore a particularly low cut top) So, Annie tried her best to find her in the cafeteria at lunch, or to volunteer to take papers down to the labs when she could, just to swing by and say hi. Nothing weird, nothing stalkerish, but for whatever reason her timing was always just... off. Darcy and her boss, Dr Foster were tied at the hip most days, and rarely left their floor. And whenever Annie swung by, they were always hard at work and Annie knew it’d be rude to interrupt.

So, Annie resorted to bribery. She managed to get Darcy to reveal her usual Starbucks order, and when she couldn’t figure out which of the two drinks was Darcy’s specifically, she decided to get one for Dr Foster as well.

Annie switched it up sometimes, but today she put the venti no whip iced white mocha on the desk with the tiny cactus, and the grande blackeye with four raw sugar on the one with the stuffed toy goat. Annie grinned at the goat and leant it up against the starbucks cup before she went back to the elevator.

She might not have gotten much of a response from Darcy or Dr Foster (or any response, if she were honest) but it wasn’t a hardship. She didn’t eat out during the week so that she could afford the treat on Mondays and her little caffeine pilgrimage was actually the best part of her Monday morning.

It was a quick hop from the 97th floor to the 101st, where Annie had no trouble crossing the familiar waiting area and down the hall to her office door.  
She was the first one in, which was par for the course. Jim and Tanya had started dating recently, and tended to stroll into work at nine o clock on the dot after what Annie was sure was a lovely gluten free vegan breakfast at some trendy cafe. Annie liked them, really she did, she thought as she put their cups on their desks for them to find, but sometimes they were a bit too New York for her tastes.

Which was funny, because Jim was from Kansas, and Tanya from Florida.

But still.

Annie put her own hot chocolate on her desk and stashed her purse underneath before she headed down the hall with the last two drinks.

“Three,” she muttered, walking closer and closer to Ms Pott’s office door. “Two... One.”

“-Pep, they’ve been pulling this same bullshit move since Juarez started slashing throats in 98. If we let them outsource, you know quality’s going to go down the tubes and I simply do not have the patience to deal with that level of fuckuppery-“

Every Monday morning, Ms Potts met with Mr Stark in her office to discuss his department’s contributions to SI. It was never a scheduled meeting. It wasn’t in Ms Pott’s calendar, or any of the other schedules that Annie was privy to, and personally Annie thought that was the reason why Mr Stark actually showed up. So, when Annie started bringing Ms Potts her coffee and found her Boss’s boyfriend fiddling with the things on her desk, Annie had thought it best to give him something to hold onto instead.

“Tony, the cost of keeping production in Rio is over 20% above the estimated cost. I’m hardly letting Mr Juarez slash our throats by saving us millions.” Ms Potts said, cleanly and calmly interrupting Mr Stark’s tirade. “Good morning, Annie.” She said, without looking up from her computer.

Thank you God and also Jesus for acting classes, because Annie swallowed her nerves (like she did every day) and smiled.

“Good morning Ms Potts, Mr Stark.” She said smoothly.

Annie liked to tell herself that she was only this nervous because of how Ms Potts looked in her office. Her desk was sat directly in front of a wall made completely of windows, and the million dollar view made it look as if the whole of Manhattan was bowing before her. The desk was made of something that looked like glass, but which Annie knew could double as a computer with a holographic and touch-sensitive keyboard. Everything was a shade of white that made everything look bright, but never cold. There was nothing out of place, no dying leaves on her peace-lily in the corner, no dust on the small shelf of untitled books. The whole room screamed ‘Ms Potts, Head Bitch In Charge’.

But Annie knew it was more than just the office that made her twitchy.

Mr Stark turned in his chair and squinted at her as she walked into the room.

“This is a private meeting.” He said pointedly. Annie marveled yet again at just how precise his goatee was. “You didn’t even knock. I could have been naked.”

“You wouldn’t have been naked.” Ms Potts said, still typing. Annie was gratified to know that she wasn’t the only one Ms Potts talked to without looking at.  
Annie took Ms Potts’ tea out of the tray and put it within reach.

“Pepper and I are dating.” Mr Stark said. He jabbed a finger in Annie’s direction. “Which means that yes, there is at least 67% chance that I could have been naked. You could have caught us _in flagrante delicto_.” He waggled his eyebrows and Annie breathed through her nose and kept a straight face.

“Of course, Mr Stark.” She said absently, putting the last of her cups on the desk in front of him, next to a mini zen sand garden that he’d written “TS <3 PP” in. She’d been told about his ‘item related eccentricities’ on her first day and had always tried to be respectful. She saw him eye the cup. “I’m so sorry, I’ll knock next time.”

“Please, Annie, you don’t have to humour him.” Ms Potts sighed.

It’d taken a few tries to get Mr Stark’s drink right, but she’d run into one of the baristas from the Starkbucks at her Saturday morning hip-hop class once, and Steph had let her know the secret of The Bossman.

It was a grande espresso frappuccino, made with four shots, heavy cream and with the cup lined with caramel. It was, Annie learned, the drink that Mr Stark ordered whenever he was coming off of a bender. Or, when he was hungover. Or, generally, whenever he went to the Starkbucks.  
It always took a second or two for Mr Stark to register that Annie had brought him a drink as well, but by the time Ms Potts had reached for hers, Mr Stark was already a few sips in.

“I pay her; of course she has to humour me.” Mr Stark said absently. Annie fought the urge to point out that no, no one was paying her, as this was an unpaid internship, but she just smiled and gripped the empty cardboard tray a little tighter. “And on that endlessly boring note, I’m out.” He stood and straightened his clothes, what were probably Armani slacks, a pair of blue chucks and a faded grey Nirvana t-shirt underneath some kind of smoking jacket, and gave Ms Potts a genuine and loving smile.

It always knocked Annie back a bit to see Ms Potts return those looks with just as much tenderness.

“I presume that will be all, Mr Stark?”

“Yes.” He said, somewhat imperiously, and took a noisy suck on his straw. “That’ll be all Ms Potts.”

As she watched him leave the room, Annie fell back on her usual debate. She could never be sure if their little coded ‘I love you’s’ were more Princess Bride or The King and I, but either way Annie was always left feeling a little breathless.

“Can I get you anything else Ms Potts?” she asked after Mr Stark had left. She was already thinking of the pile of requisition forms she’d left on her desk on Friday. Ms Potts was slated for at least a dozen public appearances between now and Christmas, and Annie was in charge of making sure that the venues were all prepared to her as a guest. That meant proper facilities, proper security, transportation... the whole shebang.

“Yes, actually.” Ms Potts said, with a slight frown. “Something’s popped up with the Avengers and Tony won’t be able to make the appearance at the Keystone Scientific Symposium tomorrow. I’d still like for someone from SI to give the prize to Dr Foster, so find a way to clear my schedule, please. Sorry for the short notice, but I’ll need you to come with us and liaise with the venue staff tomorrow.”

Annie’s heart stuttered.

No, she wanted to say. No, tomorrow did not work for her, because she had a workshop and was going to meet Bernadette Peters and maybe actually land a part in a show that didn’t have the words “Community Theatre” attached to the title, and she’d spent the last six months as a vegetarian so that she could afford to do shit like that because meat was so damned expensive in the city...

But all that Annie could think of, frozen in that moment, was the email she’d gotten when she’d been offered the internship. It had been one of hundreds she’d applied for one night of drunken heartbreak (so many that she had no recollection of even trying), and had been the only one to reply.

There’d been the standard congratulations, the details of what information to send back to SI should she accept, where to go and what to do on her first day... but at the end of the email, underneath the polite salutation and digital signature was a brief postscript.

**_This offer is being extended to you, Miss Ryan, under a probationary standpoint due to your lack of experience. Ms Potts is placing a great deal of faith in your ability to adapt to the workload, but it should be mentioned with all transparency that if this faith is misplaced that the internship, and the HB-1 VISA that accompanies it, will be rescinded without prejudice._ **

Hope in her chest started to fall, slowly as a feather on a breeze.

Annie needed this internship. This was it, her last shot. She was 24 years old, ancient in terms of a dance career and way too late for an ingénue break-through role. If she couldn’t make it in New York, now, with a working VISA to back her up? She might as well fly home and work in the BINGO hall that Martin McClellan’s mother said she’d end up in anyway.

“Sure.” Annie heard herself say, feeling a thousand miles away. It was a small consolation to see Ms Potts smile widen a fraction and know that she had kept her happy, and kept her job.

“Oh, and see if you can arrange for Dr Foster’s plus one to be changed to Darcy. Unfortunately Thor is also part of the mission, and won’t be able to attend.”  
Annie nodded, because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Proper reactions to being asked to do your job didn’t usually include bursting into tears.

“Thor is heartbroken over missing Jane’s award ceremony.” Ms Potts added with a soft smile. “Though she had to break it to him that the Kertiev prize was a statue, not the stuffed and mounted head of a Kertiev.”

“I’ll get it done.” Annie promised, twisting the cardboard tray in her hands.

Ms Potts stood and started gathering a few things, her tablet, a folder and a few thin binders.

“I’m sure you will.” She said. “Send me conformation of the details when they come in. I’ll agree to an hour long meet and greet, if it’ll sweeten the pot any, but nothing more than that. It’s Tony they want, but I swear they’ll have me listening to grant proposals for days if we don’t rein it in. Oh!” Annie felt the tray crumple and tear under her fingers. Ms Potts didn’t notice. She stopped halfway to the door. “And if you could, get Tanya to reserve a table at Nocce for after the awards. I’d like to celebrate with Jane and Darcy properly. They’ve worked so hard.” She smiled. Annie made another tear. “They deserve a night off, you know?”

Annie deliberately thought of the low popcorn ceiling and parquet floor in Wabana’s bingo hall. Waiting there. Waiting for her.

So she smiled.

“Exactly.” Annie said placidly. “Leave it with me, Ms Potts.”

Ms Potts exited the room gracefully, already texting someone, and Annie stared at the white cup still sitting on her desk. Steaming.

Eight hours later Annie had been put on hold 5 times for a total of 134 minutes, had spoken to 26 different people on the phone, sold her place in the workshop and recouped half the ticket cost, had debated the pros and cons of premeditated murder, but had finally managed to arrange for Ms Potts to give the award, and for Darcy Lewis (L-E-W-I-S not L-O-U-I-S) to be added to the security clearance.

And the cherry on top of her shitstorm of a day? The headache that had plagued her on and off for the past two weeks reared its ugly head. Again.  
Annie didn’t have time for headaches, though. So she’d popped a couple of advil that she now kept in her bag, had taken five minutes to breathe through the pain that shot from the base of her skull to behind her right eye, and had gotten back to it.

She’d worked non-stop, shoving her pathetic lunch of carrot sticks, hummus and a nearly expired yogurt into her mouth and simmered with quiet fury. It wasn’t fair, she told herself, but she couldn’t change it now. There were going to be other opportunities, other workshops, other chances to get out of a dead-end no-pay internship and into the life she’d dreamed for herself.

Soon, she promised herself. Soon.

Annie rode the crest of her slowly boiling anger and even managed to get a head start on her other work, dismantling appearance riders and requirements left and right.

Jim and Tanya must have sensed something, because they’d given her a wide berth all day, kept the noise in their office (and their heads) down. Annie was almost disappointed, because by the time she’d finished arranging everything for the Symposium she felt tight as a bowstring, ready to snap.

The clock hit 4:56 and that was it. Annie couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed her things and was in the elevator before it hit 4:57.

All Annie wanted, all she tried to think about... was the bottle of rum waiting for her at home. It was the good stuff. A mickey of it nearly twice her age, dark and spicy and strong enough to hopefully knock the memory of today out of her brain. As the elevator descended to the lobby, only stopping to pick up a mousy girl from advertising, Annie clenched her hands around her purse and breathed deeply.

So, it was a bad day. So what. Okay, maybe a bad month- year, whatever. Shit happened, and yeah, sometimes life piled it on so thick that Annie thought she might be drowning.

But, she thought resolutely as the elevator doors opened to the lobby, there was a limit. Life wasn’t all shit, and for every day like today... every day when Annie felt as small and as invisible as conceivably possible, for the days when going home to her empty shoebox of an apartment felt like a jail sentence... there had to be something better on the horizon. There had to be a limit.

Annie stepped out of the elevator and strode determinedly through the security gate, jaw clenched.

Turns out there wasn’t a limit, because when Annie started to cross the wide expanse of marble to get to the door closest to her subway stop, she was unable to miss the sound of the douchey-ist laughter she’d heard since high school.

Which, seeing as the two guys laughing looked like they had never managed to graduate, wasn’t actually that surprising? They were the kind of guys that were far too old to be called boys, but who Annie would hesitate to call men. They looked like tourists, and maybe they were. Their clothes certainly screamed “bought for status symbol”. Their Nike’s were gleaming, but their slouchy board shorts and minimalist graphic tees were threadbare. Personally Annie thought it was weirder that their sunglasses were obviously from the dollar store, but their snapbacks had probably run them over a hundred bucks.

  
And Annie could have forgiven them for looking like dicks. She could have forgiven them their horrible laughs, and their awful spatial sense, and their truly heinous hipster haircuts. She could have.

But the two meatheads had obviously singled out one of the towers Janitors, and Annie watched the one in blue toss the wrapper for his gum onto the ground directly in front of the poor man.

“Nice onesie, bro.” The one in blue said, smirking. The lobby’s acoustics made it so his voice carried, even over the sounds of the emptying lobby. There were 20, maybe 25 people milling around now. “Does it come in men’s?”

On any other day, Annie could have ignored it. Security, she knew, was somewhere nearby. She could walk on by. Keep her head down. Let them do their jobs.

Yeah... no.

“Oh, I think you come in men enough for all of us.” Annie said, striding forward, chin lifted. It was a hateful sort of thing to say, but damnit if she didn’t feel hateful. She’d have time to regret it later.

The guy in blue and the guy in orange traded stupid looks. The janitor, whose name badge Annie could now see read ‘Dwayne’, just looked uncomfortable.

The guy in blue, who had a dweebie smushed in kind of face, scowled at her. “I think you better come in my-“ he faltered, obviously thrown by the fact that she had interrupted his afternoon hobby. “I mean- I think you better come up-“

Orange guy, who’s hair was fucking greasy enough to start a chip fat fryer, scowled even harder. “I think you better say that to his face, you fucking bitch.”

“Nice execution.” Annie drawled. She felt her jaw tick. “You’re doing terrific. Now, I’d be thankful if you and tweedle dum over there would apologize to Dwayne, and kindly get the hell out of here.”

A few people in the lobby looked over, and Annie saw a few others stop. Her heart sped up.

Ah, an audience. This? This she could work with.

Bro’s 1 and 2 couldn’t seem to find a collective brain cell to give a shit that they were collecting a crowd, and chose instead to smirk at her.

“Hey, why don’t keep on walking, honey. Keep your nose out of it.” Annie could almost taste the smarm coming out of Orange bro’s mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d need a girl to fight your battles, buddy.” Blue bro laughed cruelly. He stepped into Dwayne’s space and poked him in the chest. “Gone soft cleaning up after Stark’s bitches, right?”

Dwayne kept his head down, his eyes trained on the floor, but Annie could see his hands flexing around the handle of his cart. Annie saw red. She didn’t know Dwayne from Adam, had probably seen the man around the tower but never paid attention, had probably ignored his face because she was too busy, maybe more important than a janitor. And these fucking skidmarks were making Dwayne feel- Annie felt her own hands clench into fists. She knew exactly how-

“Son,” a voice, smooth baritone, said from behind her, “Maybe if you’d ever been in a real fight, you might not be so keen for another.”

Annie turned her head and Lord Thundering Jesus, there was Captain America.

He was in civvies, blue jeans and a black leather jacket that stretched across his shoulders, staring down the Bro’s with a look that Annie was pretty sure could melt steel. There was another guy with him in civvies too, a black guy who was maybe half a head shorter and a little leaner, but obviously one of the superhero set. The black guy was carrying a big blue duffle bag, and neither of them looked impressed with the situation.

The guy in blue laughed incredulously. “What’d you say, buddy?”

Captain America (Steve Rogers, Annie corrected in her head, remembering the name she’d been told) raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me.” He said simply. The crowd had gathered fully now, but everyone was staying well away from the action. With Captain America as a distraction, Dwayne took a few uneasy steps back and Annie saw him fade into the crowd blushing and looking on with unconcealed interest.

This time it was the guy in orange who laughed. Annie’s mouth almost dropped when she saw him actually strip his shirt off of his head and hand it to his friend.

“I don’t care who the fuck you are, if you want to go, let’s go!” he crowed and Annie was astounded when he pounded a fist against his chest. Like an ape.  
But that was when she noticed it.

“Whoa, pump the brakes!” Annie snapped and rounded on the two guys. She gestured to the shirtless one. “You take your shirt off but leave your sunglasses on? What kind of backward fucking pageantry is that?” he stared at her, jaw wagging, sunglasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. Annie cocked her head. “What are you going to do? Fight, or play poker stars dot com?”

The guy with Captain Rogers laughed with the crowd, and Annie saw the faintest twitch of the Captains mouth.

Pug-face, not to be outdone by his friend, stripped his own shirt off and carefully replaced his snapback just-so before grunting “Go time!”

The whole thing would have been stressful, and maybe Annie would have been worried about just how aggressive the two of them were getting, but Annie could only see the golden opportunity that it presented. With Captain America here, she was safe as houses, and could give the two idiots what they deserved.

“Look at those fucking treasure trails.” She drawled, giving the two brutes an obvious once over. It felt like letting the air out of a balloon, easing the pressure building behind her eyes with every catty word. “What’s up with your fucking body hair big chutes, did your aesthetician coif that for you?”

Annie expected the gasping laughter from the crowd.

“You both can kiss my aesthetician.”

She didn’t expect that, though. Annie’s head spun only to find Captain Rogers openly smirking now, mischief making his blue eyes shine. Annie grinned, delightfully scandalized that he’d said anything, never mind anything funny.

Steady on, heart.

Oh, but then he raised another eyebrow (he could do both sides, damn him), and looked at the two dumbstruck idiots disdainfully.

“What, do you guys do cross fit?” he asked patronizingly.

Annie’s heart spun. She knew a cue when she heard one. “You can cross fuck off.” She said, not missing a beat. “How many times have you pulled your horn today?” she questioned meanly, not really caring who answered.

The Shirtless Wonders both squinted, confused. “What?” the one in orange managed to get out.

Captain Rogers clapped a hand to his heart. “Aw, she’s bashful.” He simpered.

“C’mon kitten,” Annie leered “I won’t tell anyone.”

There were a few sniggers through the crowd and Captain Roger’s friend stared with wide, wondering eyes and a thousand watt grin.

Annie felt like some strange breeze had blown through and buffeted her high in the air. She couldn’t remember ever.... It was like a script. Enter man, stage left, who knew his mark and all his lines and kept pace with her without pause. It almost made her wish that security would take their good sweet time getting here, but she could already see two guards walking from the elevators.

“Hey,” the one in blue squawked, obviously he’d caught on to what they were talking about. “Ladies love the flow, bro.”

“We’ve got sick flow, bro.” The other one chimed in and they fistbumped. Un-ironically. Jesus.

“Buddy,” The Captain sighed, crossing his arms again. “The only thing ladies love is when you quit talking.”

Annie nodded. Damned straight. “And quit talking the same. What,” she bit out “Do you two share a set of testicles and a tongue?”

That seemed to be the last straw. Blue growled and surged toward her, but before Annie could flinch she was hauled to the side by a pair of strong arms. The Captain’s friend lifted her off her feet and dragged her a few feet away from the action.

The Captain moved quick as a blink and caught Blue before he could make a full step, tripped him up and let him fall face-first to the ground. He lay there, stunned, and Captain Rogers made quick work of getting Orange into some sort of submission hold. The guards ran past Annie and she gave another tug against the hand holding her still.

“You’re fucking ten ply, bud.” She spat at Blue (who at least seemed to know better than to struggle against the guard cuffing him). The arms that held her tightened each time she tried to twist and Annie could barely hear anything but the sound of her own voice for the sound of ringing in her ears. “Such a big man! You wanna beat on a girl? Fuck, you’re dumb as a post!”

Her Da had been in the Navy. Annie was more than happy to demonstrate how he’d taught her to throw a punch.

“Hey, easy tiger.” The man, the Captain’s friend, said with a laugh. His hands were tight on her arms, but his grip didn’t hurt. “Cap’s got it covered. Just relax.”

The Captain did seem to have it covered. He’d handed over the guy in orange to the second guard via headlock, only letting go once the cuffs were safely secured behind his back. The guy in blue was still on the ground, but he lifted his head enough to see that when he’d smashed his face against the marble he had maybe (Annie hoped) broken his nose.

When he caught her eye, he glared at her and spat a glob of blood on the floor before he was hauled to his feet.

“That was well brought up,” Annie called out as they had a quick and quiet word with the Captain before hauling the guys away. She relaxed, and the man’s grip did too. “Too bad you weren’t!”

Dwayne pushed his cart over and the Captain’s friend let go of her arm as the man himself walked back over to them. It felt like watching a small, graceful mountain walk, but Annie tried to put the weirdness away for a second and focus on Dwayne.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, quick and quiet, staring at his shoes. “I- well, that’s it. Thanks.” Then he was wheeling his cart away and left Annie blinking uselessly.

“No problem.” She said to the empty air. She wished he would have stayed. She wanted- wanted to assure him that he was worth notice even when he wasn’t surrounded by dickheads. “My pleasure.”

The crowd dispersed, happy to move along now that the show was over, though Annie didn’t miss the few looks that were thrown her way as they left. She was sure that many of them knew that she worked with Ms Potts, and they had to be wondering if she’d have a job in the morning.

Which was... well, fair enough. Annie’s heartbeat was slowing, adrenaline fading, and that left her only with the sinking realization that she’d verbally assaulted visitors to the Tower. In public. On camera.

Annie brought a weary hand to cover her eyes. “Oh fuck me.” She said. She was so so fired.

“Let me at least buy you dinner first.”

Annie peeked out from under her hand to find Captain Rogers standing next to her. His mouth was tight, fighting a grin, and Annie could see an actual goddamned blush blooming on his cheeks. Like he couldn’t quite manage to deliver that utterly sexy line with a straight face.

His friend was just behind him, and he was staring at Captain Rogers with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It wasn’t so much a look of ‘did you do that?” but rather ‘I didn’t know you could do that’.

Annie hadn’t known that Captain America could be that smooth either, buddy.

“Or,” he said, when Annie couldn’t figure out how to make her mouth work again, and he looked sheepish and apologetic and too damned cute. “We could start with your name, and go from there?”

Jesus his eyes were blue. Like, so fucking blue.

She wet her lips, which (along with her mouth) had become inexplicably dry. “Annie,” she swallowed, “Annie Ryan.”

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he said, casually, though the look in his eye had her convinced that he knew she’d know his name. “And this is my friend, Sam Wilson.”  
Sam gave a little wave. “Steve here was trying to sell me on the fact that the Tower was a quiet place to live.” He said wryly. “I’d like to thank you for proving him wrong.”

Annie felt her face get warm as she blushed. “It’s not-“ she stumbled over her words. “I mean, I’m not usually-“ She sighed heavily and suddenly the weight of the day, of her life, was back on her shoulders. “It’s just been a really, really long day.”

“I totally get it.” Sam said. Annie didn’t miss the weird shifty-eyed look that he threw in Steve’s direction. “I mean, moving to New York? Definitely something I’m only doing once. Really takes it out of you, you know?” Before Annie could commiserate, Sam was doing an awful impression of a yawn with outstretched arms and everything. “I mean, I am just beat. Dead tired. Sorry Steve, I know we had plans but I’m asleep on my feet. So I’m just going to grab this,” he snatched up his duffle and shouldered it, already walking to the elevators. “and go upstairs and get settled. Nice to meet you, Annie! Steve,” he called over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, man.”

He was gone before Annie could really make sense of it all, leaving her standing in the middle of the lobby with Steve. The end of day traffic was at its peak, but the two of them stayed where they were, still in the eye of the hurricane.

“Subtle.” Annie murmured, still staring at the space that Sam had taken up.

“Sorry about him.” Steve’s blush had spread, and Annie tried to squash the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach when she saw the pink tips of his ears. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Annie’s brain had something to say about swallowing, but she ignored it. Down girl.

“I really would like to ask you.” Steve said, interrupting her thoughts. He shoved his hands in his pockets and he stood, almost bashful. His eyes were hungry, though, too predatory to be shy. “To dinner, I mean. If you’d like. It doesn’t have to be tonight, if you’ve already got plans. But, maybe Wednesday?” he asked.

He wanted to have dinner with her? Now? In her schlubby second hand Macy’s clearance workwear, after watching her go off on two perfect strangers because they were teasing a janitor, after possibly the worst day she’d ever had at Stark Industries? She was rumpled and wrinkled, still frustrated and angry, and this, like... literal superhero still seemed to see something that he liked enough to ask her out.

This was never going to work out, Annie thought to herself, because obviously Captain America was _insane_.

It probably said something about Annie that that only seemed to make her butterflies flutter even harder.

It’s not like she ever claimed to be sane herself.

“I’m busy Wednesday,” she said, truthfully. She gave lessons after work Tuesday through till Friday; singing, ballet, piano, whatever she knew that would get her some money, and right now she was booked solid. Weekends she saved for taking her own lessons; more singing and ballet, plus hip-hop and an improv class she’d found. Mondays, tonight, was her only free night.

Steve’s face crumpled like a house of cards, and Annie’s heart did a sad little twist and stutter.

“But,” she said, a little desperately, and a lot eager “What about right now?” Carpe Diem, right? If she was going to be out of a job tomorrow, she might as well make the best of tonight. She watched his face and felt a rush of fondness when he smiled. “There’s Charlie’s, on the 20th floor?” she suggested. “It should be pretty quiet, and I’ve heard the food is great.”

Well, Annie had picked up enough take-out orders for Ms Potts to infer that the food was good.

“Great!” Steve said eagerly. It took a second for Annie to realize that he’d actually said yes. “I- uh, well, shall we?” He then, to the detriment of Annie’s working brain, offered her his arm. It took another second for Annie to remember that this wasn’t him making fun of her somehow, and that he wasn’t exactly from around here.

“Let’s.” She said, feeling a soft sort of expression come across her face. She slipped her hand over the crook of his elbow, and oh _hello_ forearm.

Nearly everyone was heading out of the building, rather than up, so the trip up to Charlie’s seemed quick as a blink. It didn’t hurt that Steve didn’t make any move to shake her off of his arm, and Annie was more than happy to keep herself tucked close to his side. He took up her senses, big as he was. She could smell the leather of his jacket, the faint hint of whatever cologne he had on, felt the strength of the arm under her hand. Everything about him seemed to radiate outward, and distracted her to the point that she didn’t really notice when the elevator doors opened and Steve led them to the maitre’d stand.

  
Annie left him to sort out a table and quickly excused herself to the washroom to go freshen up. She did not miss the odd hesitant look that flitted over Steve’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came and Annie made her exit.

She ploughed into the washroom and made a beeline for the mirror, nearly throwing her purse on the counter between sinks. She dove in with both hands shaking and prayed to God, Jesus and All the Drag Queens that it wasn’t just stage makeup lying in the bottom of her bag.

Somehow, rainbow glitter eye shadow and blush that was three shades too dark didn’t seem appropriate for a first date.

Though, looking at herself in the mirror, Annie thought that maybe glitter would be the only thing that could distract Steve from seeing just how haggard she looked.

Annie frowned and made a few faces in the mirror, judging her expressions. Well, okay, maybe not haggard. Her skin was clear, and aside from the dark circles under her eyes the only thing that gave her exhaustion away was how thin she’d gotten. Not that he’d know she’d dropped ten pounds since she’d landed in New York. She was back to what she weighed back at school, when she was dancing 6 hours a day. So, Annie did her best to fluff her pixie-cut curls back into shape, slapped on new layer of lip gloss and mascara and pinched her cheeks a few times until she was convinced that the blue eyes in the mirror had some life behind them.

Annie took two Advil from the bottle in her bag and took two more, downed them with tap water, forced herself to take one last deep breath and stared into the mirror.

“You’re cute.” She affirmed to her reflection, staring deep into her own eyes. “You’re funny. You’re nice and you’re talented. He is just a man.” What a man, sang the chorus in her head, what a man, what a mighty good man. Annie swallowed down a hopeful sigh. “And he asked you out. Just be yourself. It’s like an audition!” she felt another sigh, deep in her lungs. An anxiousness, deep in her soul. “Like any other audition.”

Except there wasn’t a panel of seven men, usually all gay, sitting on the opposite side of a long table not paying attention as she barred her soul to them. Just one man, hopefully not completely gay, sitting on the other side of a dinner table.

She groaned and hung her head low between her shoulders. How the fuck. How the actual fuck.

With a breath, Annie lifted her head stared at her reflection again. She stood straight, rolled her shoulders back, fluffed her hair again and brought her smile up to her eyes.

“I’m Annie,” she said with a winning tilt to her head. She was confidence. She was poise. She was whatever she needed to be. “Auditioning for the part of Steve Rogers’ girlfriend. Thank you for your consideration.”


	2. Audition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment or a Kudos! I wasn't expecting much when I posted this, so anything is appreciated. Anything you recognize isn't mine.
> 
> This work is currently un-beta'd (so all the mistakes are mine) and still being written, though I know exactly where its going. And boy, is it going. 
> 
> Be warned! Here be smut.

Steve Rogers, God help him, had a _type_.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know about it. Growing up, the guys all went wild for Ginger Rogers, Jean Harlow, and Veronica Lake. Blonde had never really been Steve’s thing, though. Sure, he knew a beauty when he saw one, but his head had turned for Katherine Hepburn, Vivien Leigh… Clark Gable, even. (He’d dragged Bucky to the pictures 6 times to see Gone With The Wind in 1935 and never managed to figure out whom he wanted to be more, Rhett or Scarlet).

So there was no epiphany, no cold sweat inducing moment of clarity and yes, thank you very much, he was well aware how he got around a fiery brunette. Meeting Jane’s assistant Darcy had been a bit of a trial before he worked out just how _fast_ Darcy was. Whatever speed her brain worked at, it let her keep up with Tony, Jane and Bruce, but Steve was exhausted enough just from being her friend. He couldn’t imagine being able to keep up the energy to ride along in her whirlwind.

In the rare moments he let himself entertain the thought of any sort of dating life, Steve had visions of someone a bit… steadier.

Not that he had time for dating.

Six months ago, when SHEILD had collapsed (when Bucky had disappeared) what remained of the World Security Council had been up in arms. There had been a hearing, many hearings actually, and while Steve had recovered from three gunshots, a broken shoulder (broken heart), and a dozen or so other fractures Natasha had addressed their first demands with brutal honesty.

Yes, SHEILD had been compromised from the beginning. Yes, HYDRA was apparently still active in the world. No, none of the Avengers would surrender themselves in order to placate a few misguided Senators. No, the Avengers were not abandoning their work to defend the people of Earth; they were only seeking a way to do so most effectively

And, unfortunately, the most effective method to be found was through an agency like SHIELD. An agency, which unfortunately no longer existed

An agency that would have to be rebuilt from the ground up.

The WSC had made it clear that the only one whom they would even consider to lead the attempt was Steve. Fury was officially dead and no one was prepared to trust anyone who’d existed in SHEILD before the fall without thorough examination and testing to see just how far HYDRA’s infection had spread. There was no _time_ for examination, though. No opportunity to take the proper time to find someone else to take on the project. Highly sensitive missions had been abandoned mid-op. SHEILD assets had disappeared in seconds, stolen by HYDRA and taken to parts unknown.

The choice to place his search for Bucky on hold was the hardest one Steve had ever had to make.

He’d raged from his hospital bed. Why did it have to be him? Why not Hill? She’d been a loyal agent of SHEILD for over fifteen years, the deputy director for over six. He’d even begged Fury to resurface, to emerge like Lazarus and take the damned burden from Steve’s shoulders. He was a soldier, a leader on the battlefield… not behind a desk. Not in a boardroom.

Sam had been a godsend.

He’d offered to take up the search for Bucky on his own while he got things squared away in DC. He had some connections, some leads he could follow while Steve worked on getting SHEILD’s resources back in place. The chances of ever getting back everything that SHEILD had lost were slim to none, but they both knew that even with a fraction of SHEILD’s old intelligence their ability to find a man that even _Natasha_ had called a ghost would be improved a hundredfold. He’d join Steve in New York as soon as Steve sent word, no questions, no problem.

Steve had made calls like that a hundred times before, to think of the bigger picture instead of the smaller goal… but none had hurt like that one. He’d chosen the world over Bucky once before and Steve wanted nothing more than to tell the world to fuck off and bring his friend home, screw the consequences. But Steve knew that if he had, that if he let the world burn to bring Bucky back, that his friend would never forgive him for it.

So he and Natasha had boarded a StarkJet to New York and Captain America had become Commander Rogers.

It’d taken nearly half a year, but Steve had finally gotten the call from Maria Hill. She’d told him that the Director was back, and that he could hand over command whenever he liked.

24 hours later he picked Sam and his bags up from JFK with one of Stark’s cars, already running over every detail he had managed to gather about where Bucky could be hiding. The plan from there was simple. Move Sam into the tower, spend a full week planning and gathering intel (Sam’s only demand, and Steve thanked God every day that he’d found someone- that he wouldn’t have to do this alone. Not again) and then, hunt.

It was all Steve had thought about for months, what he would do when the time came to finally- finally get up off his ass and do right by Bucky. To find him, to try and bring him home. And if Bucky wouldn’t- wouldn’t come, maybe if he wouldn’t even talk to him- Steve was bound and determined to find a way to make sure that he was _safe_. He’d had a thousand ideas, hundreds of little pieces of plans all flit through his thoughts for months-

But when he led Sam into the lobby, they took a backseat to what he saw. Two meatheads, getting an award-worthy dressing down from a feisty brunette.

Steve would have stepped in regardless of what she looked like, but it sure didn’t hurt that she was pretty enough to catch his eye from across the room. And it wasn’t her clothes that stood out. Some modern women wore their clothes like armor, used it more to distract and misdirect attention than anything else. No, it was something in the stubborn tilt of her chin, the feeling that shone behind her eyes as she took her stand.

He still didn’t know how to dance, but taking those two idiots to task with her felt pretty damned close. She was vicious, whip-sharp and hilariously dry. Pretty, pretty smart and definitely brave. Boy, but he was a goner.

Steve still didn’t have time for dating, but it had been so long since he’d seen something he wanted, and he knew better then to let the chance pass him by.

So when he’d asked her to dinner later in the week and she’d countered with that night? Well, he was no fool. He’d taken a spot at a table while she’d gone to freshen up, and found an old familiar feeling of anxiety pooling in his stomach.

He fiddled with the cutlery and took a few sips of the water that the waiter had poured, and tried to remind himself that he wasn’t the same 90 pound asthmatic he’d been before. She’d already agreed to the date, and even if all she wanted out of it was some face-time with a superhero, at least he would get to have dinner with a pretty dame. The restaurant seemed nice, too. A sort of mid-market sort-of-Italian joint that probably wouldn’t amaze but definitely wouldn’t offend. It wasn’t the most romantic, and he wished he’d had time to change into something a little nicer, but he caught sight of Annie coming back to the table and he was spared from any more fretting.

If he took the opportunity to check her out a bit more thoroughly as she walked? Go ahead and sue him.

What he could see of Annie’s figure was trim, slender even. She had on a fairly non-descript white blouse and a charcoal colored plaid pencil skirt that showed off the long line of her legs. She had a jacket, too, a black leather number that she had draped over her arm. When he’d first seen her he’d been taken aback by her hair for a moment, it was cut short as a man’s had been back in the war. A pixie cut, Steve remembered. It was long on the top and fell around her face in a riot of dark curls.

Two or three steps from the table she noticed him looking and her wide blue eyes met his. Steve tried not to grin too broadly when her expression only faltered slightly into shock before returning to normal. He doubted there’d be any requests for autographs and that thought sparked a small hope that this date might actually be something to be excited about.

“Thanks for that.” Annie smiled as she sat. Steve fought the urge to help with her chair. Natasha had given him hell the one and only time he’d tried it with her, and he’d been taught that modern women didn’t take too kindly to that sort of thing. “Like I said, it’s been a long day.”

“Oh yeah?” he offered.

“You ever have a day that just…” she shook her head and swallowed. “I guess I just looked around at my life and all I could think was ‘No. Not this’.” Annie shrugged and the corner of her mouth twitched up. “You ever have a day like that?”

Nearly every day until he got the Serum, and more than a few after he was thawed, he wanted to say.

Instead he took another drink of water. “A couple.”

Annie smiled.

“Well, its over now.” She said resolutely. “And I’m pretty sure its super bad date etiquette to talk about how shitty your day was on a first date, plus, you live with my boss. Even if I wanted to unload my frustrations, I wouldn’t.”

“You work with Tony?” Steve was surprised. She didn’t look much like the engineering kind. She laughed, though, and put any fears to rest.

“Ms Potts.” She corrected. “I’m one of her interns.”

 _Annie Ryan_. Yeah, now her name was ringing bells. Pepper had mentioned her in passing before. He didn’t have any recollection of being introduced, and he was damned sure he would have remembered a face like Annie’s.

Knowing that she worked in the tower did a lot to put Steve at ease (hard to relax these days with HYDRA gone to ground) but it was the fact that she worked directly with Pepper that got him to truly relax. No one got to work with Pepper without going through a series of background checks designed personally by Tony. No one with any connection or past connection to any sort of danger would get within 100 yards of Tony’s girlfriend without a friendly laser to the temple courtesy of JARVIS.

So Annie really was just a normal girl, then. No weird hidden past, no secret agenda…

Maybe she saw the last bit of tension in his eyes, or the small twitch of his hand, but Annie lifted her eyes to his and stared curiously.

“You look like you’re expecting the big bad wolf.” She said, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. She took a drink from her own water and Steve found his eyes drawn back to her throat. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

Steve knew that it was meant to reassure him, but her words only served to make him think of her sharp white teeth.

He was saved from making a fool of himself by the waiter’s return. He brought warm bread and said he’d be back in a few minutes to get their orders.

“So,” Annie said once he’d left, looking up through her lashes at him. “I’m at a bit of a loss. I’m not sure if any of my usual first date questions are going to fly here.”

Steve gave half a smile. He knew, logically, that the work he’d done with the Howling Commando’s had been put in history books… hell, he’d seen the exhibit at the goddamned Smithsonian with his face plastered on the walls, but it was always a bit hard to correlate that with perfect strangers knowing the details of his life.

“Don’t let that stop you.” He offered.

Annie licked her lips. Her eyes shifted from his face to the table and then to the ceiling before she breathed a soft laugh and looked back to him.

“Alright,” she said. She leaned forward in her seat a little. “So, Steve. What do you do for a living?”

Steve gave a short laugh. “I- uh,” god, it had been a dogs age since anyone had asked him that. The kid was funny. “I work as a member of a specialty security task force for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” He smirked “I used to be a Captain in the army, though. What about you?”

It was a halfway genuine question. Sure, he knew she worked with Pepper, but Steve had no clue what exactly it was that her assistants did. It was a question he’d ask any of his dates, an easy way to ease in to conversation.

“I work as one of Pepper Potts’ personal assistants.” She returned easily. “It’s mostly administrative, but I also handle the logistics of any of Ms Potts’ public appearances. I schedule security, make sure the venue is prepared, handle any weird scheduling or technological issues that crop up…” she waved a hand.

“Working at Stark Tower must be interesting.” Steve baited. Annie grinned and gave an overenthusiastic nod.

“Oh, very.” She simpered. “Never a dull moment.”

Her eyes caught the candlelight and Steve couldn’t resist. “Ever meet any of the Avengers?”

“I’ve talked to Mr Stark a few times.” Annie admitted. “And I’ve seen the rest of the team once or twice in the halls, but my job doesn’t really have anything to do with them.” She honestly looked as if she wasn’t bothered either way, but her expression shifted from neutral as she fixed him with a knowing look. “Though, I don’t think you want to talk too much about Captain America tonight, do you? I know plenty about him.” She said quietly. “I’d rather get to know more about you, Steve.”

A warm feeling moved inside of him and Steve bit his lip, looking down at the table for a moment halfway between grinning like a loon and wanting look anywhere but back at her. He took a breath, feeling like he was coming back up for air, and found himself smiling.

You and me both, he wanted to say.

Instead, he lifted his eyes and squared his shoulders.

He’d had a lot of first dates, a lot of practice in the art of getting to know a girl from a few hesitant questions over an uncomfortable meal. A first date could sometimes feel an awful lot like a minefield, but Steve had walked minefields before and it felt nothing like talking with Annie.

Talking with her… it reminded Steve of what he actually liked about first dates. There was a kind of thrill to it, a cat and mouse game of startlingly beautiful simplicity. You’d ask a question and you’d get an answer. Or, a distraction, a diversion, maybe an outright lie… but half the fun lay in figuring out which one it was. The other half was the answers themselves.

There were the little things, easy things to start with. Favorite color (hers, yellow; his, blue), favorite food (he said a good roast dinner, she said steak and fries), cats or dogs (both admitted never having either, but wanting dogs.). They traded favorite hobbies, both were runners and Steve admitted to his sketchbook after Annie had mentioned that she could play a few instruments.

Between the first and second glass of wine, Steve learned that Annie came from a small town in Canada of all places. He offered up a few carefully edited stories of his childhood in return, and Annie’s interest was sincere enough to feel heady. They kept a steady stream of conversation without much effort, and Annie seemed happy to talk about anything, chatting animatedly between bites of her pasta.

“There’s absolutely no way that that’s true!” Steve found himself exclaiming in the middle of one of her stories.

“Oh, I wish I was making this up.” Annie replied. Her face shifted, looking like she just sucked a particularly sour lemon “Oh, oh no!” She pitched her voice upward, hitting a screeching nasal note that made a few of the other patrons look up from their meals as Steve laughed. “’Get away from Duchess!’ but by this time her boyfriend, or whatever, he’s already got the dog in his hands.” ‘Dog’ came out a bit more like ‘Dag’ the more excited she got. She played it all in perfect pantomime, so well that Steve could almost see the struggling Chihuahua.

“So this guy’s got the dog, and he’s looking at the girl and there I am holding two trays of coffee and just staring from across the street as I swear to God, he shoves the dog  _down his pants_. So now the girl starts screaming, and the guy starts screaming cause I guess Duchess wasn’t too impressed with what she found, and he starts flailing around screaming ‘I told you this would happen!’” her voice lowered as she mimicked the man and her eyebrows furrowed in consternation. “’I told you, Vanessa! I have to assert my dominance! It’s the only way!’”

Steve almost snorted wine out of his nose and a few minutes later it did not surprise him in the slightest to learn that Annie was an aspiring actress. Working for Pepper was a way to pay the bills she said, and an opportunity that Annie knew better than to pass up, but really it had been a ticket to New York that brought her one step closer to Broadway. She’d gone to a kind of boarding school for dance in Toronto when she was a child, Annie had explained as she used the last of the bread to sop up the last of her sauce (her mouth had demanded attention throughout dinner with every occasional lick of her lips, and when Steve caught yet another glimpse of her quick pink tongue he struggled to focus on what she was saying) but she’d figured out fairly early on that she wanted to be more than just a dancer.

She explained hesitantly, as if it were one of her closest secrets, that she knew somewhere deep down, that she could be more. Needed to be more.

Steve found it in himself to swallow and nod and smile when the waiter came to take their orders for dessert even if all he could hear was the echo of his own voice pleading for someone to just give him a chance.

Instead, he looked over the dessert menu.

“Would you like to split something?” Annie asked. Her smile was a little shy, but open. Steve had never felt so hungry. “I’ve heard the fondue here is amazing.”

Steve knew in that moment with a curious and undeniable certainty where their night was headed. It hadn’t taken long for Steve to work out after waking up in the 21stcentury that when a girl was lookin’ at you like that, a kiss goodnight probably wouldn’t cut it.

Like he kept trying to tell Tony and Natasha, sex hadn’t been invented in the sixties.

“Sure.” He said, licking his lips. He heard his own voice, pitched low and watched as Annie turned a light and flattering shade of pink. “I’d like some fondue.”

He caught her eye and felt the slow slide of satisfaction when he caught the color on her cheeks.

Somethin’ had thrown this girl in his path at just the right moment and if the past few years had taught him anything it was to dance while he could, while the music was still playing. Steve was by no means an expert in the art of… well, any of this. Stepping out- Dating… but he was willing to try out a few of the old tips and tricks that Bucky had tried to teach him back when dames had barely noticed him.

He took a breath and subtly rolled his shoulders back. It was a move he usually pulled just before shit hit the fan, and this was hardly a battle, but the same slow pulse of adrenaline started to thrum through his veins. He felt a damned fool for doing so, but he intentionally flexed his bicep as he tried to nonchalantly run his hand through his hair, liking how her pretty eyes tracked the movement.

Dessert was, by far, the most sexually charged experience with food that Steve had ever had. Annie was constantly licking at her lips and fingers, drawing his gaze to the full swell of her bottom lip. Intentional, Steve realized, once he caught sight of her staring at him. She knew exactly what she was doing, and exactly what she was doing to  _him_  with each drip of chocolate that she slowly licked away. Steve knew that she’d be able to see his blush even in the dim light, but he’d be damned if he’d let her get the better of him and he dared to feed her by hand once or twice.

Oh, he knew where this was heading all right, but for the first time in a long time Steve wasn’t in any rush. The anticipation was sweet and high in the air, and he and Annie both seemed to want to let it linger, to see how far they could take it.

Still, despite the tension in the air and both of their frankly overt flirting, he and Annie managed to keep up their steady conversation. Steve found himself sharing a few anecdotes about his teams, both the Commandos and the Avengers, and wondered at how inordinately pleased he was that Annie had laughed at his story of Dum-Dum and the chickens. They took their time between bites and Steve couldn’t be bothered when he realized that they were one of only a handful of tables left in the restaurant. As the room emptied and the quiet grew, their conversation turned quiet and personal.

“You know, I can’t imagine it. Being an Avenger.” Annie confessed. She speared a piece of pineapple on her long-stemmed fork and dragged it lazily through the chocolate. “I mean, how do you do it?”

Steve shrugged. A lot of people asked the same sort of question. Did he get hurt a lot? How strong was he? Did he like fighting? “Its not as hard as you’d think.” He said. “It’s a lot like being a soldier.”

Annie shook her head. “No, I don’t mean-“ she hesitated, “I don’t mean the fighting. I understand that. What I don’t get is how you  _know_.” She said pointedly, looking sincerely baffled. “The Avengers… you, how do you know which calls to make? If it was just fighting that’d be, I don’t want to say easy, but I think I could do that. If I were strong enough, sure, just punch the bad guys in the face, easy. But from the stories I’ve heard from Ms Potts…” she stopped again, a slight frown creasing her brow. “I just don’t know if I would be able to know what the right decision was, in the moment, you know?”

“It’s-“ Steve tried to hunt for the right words. It was one of the most sincere questions about his work that he’d ever heard and as much as he’d like to laugh it off and talk about anything else, Annie deserved an equally sincere answer. “Like I said. Its easier than you think.” Annie raised an eyebrow and he leaned forward. “No, really. The way I see it, in the moment you find the guy tryin’ to hurt people and… and you just have to ask yourself one thing. What does this guy want to do? You ask that and then you do your best to get in the goddamned way.”

“That easy?” Annie asked. She grinned tentatively, but Steve was just glad to see that he hadn’t spooked her.

He nodded. “That easy.” And, in his mind, it was. “You cause enough trouble for ‘em and the bad guys plans tend to fall apart. It’s never really anything you get to think about, though. Not usually a lot of time.” He admitted wryly. “But in the moment, when it’s down to giving them what they want or getting in the way?” Memories of flying, of falling, of crashing whistled past his minds eye. He swallowed “It’s the easiest decision you’ll ever make.”

Annie hummed and stared at him for a few long moments before smiling and shaking her head. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to make you talk shop. This is just…. Surreal.” She said, “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is so usually not my life.”

“How do you mean?” Steve asked, curious.

She blushed. “I verbally assaulted two people in the lobby today, with like… very little provocation. I thought that as soon as security dealt with them, I was going to get fired. I still have a feeling that I’m going to get fired.” Annie looked like she was trying to stifle her smile. “When I saw you come across the lobby this was not how I thought tonight was gonna end.”

Her gaze was level and somewhat resigned, and Steve fought the urge to question just how in Gods half acre anyone could have taken one look at that woman and walked off. Instead, he reached across the table and wrapped his hand around hers, stilling her fingers. Steve wondered if she could feel the drumming of his pulse.

“How would you like it to end?” he asked, braver than he felt. Wasn’t tough. He felt as green and flighty as he’d been back when Bucky’d found him his first date. He was hopeful though, and confident enough that he hadn’t read her wrong. Though, hell, a kiss goodnight would be enough until he could take her out again. He needed that much, though… needed at least a taste of her.

The dark flash of her eyes was enough to let him know that the feeling was mutual. She turned her hand over in his and ran her thumb over the skin of his wrist, tracing the thin blue veins there.

“I heard from Ms Potts that you have a mission tomorrow.” Annie commented, though her eyes didn’t move from him. “You probably don’t want to be out too late, and I live all the way in Harlem.”

“Oh.” Steve murmured stupidly, throwing silent praise skyward for this new body and its ability to  _feel_. Jesus, had his wrist always been this sensitive?

“So it’ll probably be easiest to go back to yours.” She said, voice light as air.

Steve fought to get his breath back, to keep the smile off his face but mostly to keep himself from reaching across the table and kissing her right then and there.

Steve had seen a lot of smiles in his life, but only two seemed worth remembering.

Peggy’s smile, rare as it had been in those lean times, had been a grenade. A blinding flash of joy and hope that never lingered, lasting just long enough to leave an impression pressing on the back of your eyes. Her smile had been a promise, in Steve’s mind, the promise that victory could be had. Could be won because that smile, her smile, meant that she’d fight and she’d damned well win. And Bucky’s?

Bucky’s had crept across his face as slow as molasses, started small and quiet before rising til it was impossible to look away. Bucky had always known how to use it, too. Aimed it as well as he’d ever aimed a rifle, and it could hit as hard as any bullet. Slow and easy or quick and dirty, Bucky… the Bucky he’d known before had a talent for knowing just when to grin the right way.

But Annie… Jesus, Annie smiled like a sunrise and Steve felt it like a punch to the gut as he watched her light up. It made his heart quicken, though it wasn’t… but looking at her was like looking at a place he’d left a long time ago.

“Alright.” He returned in a tone he hoped matched hers. He let himself smile when he saw hers, her eyes bright and her cheeks flush. “Alright.” He breathed.

Just exactly how, Steve never quite figured, but somehow they managed to wait for the waiter to clear the table and bring the check. Annie didn’t fuss when he made to pay the bill, and Steve appreciated the deference to his apparently old-fashioned manners.

Steve led her to the elevator, and apart from hailing JARVIS’s attention to bring them to his floor, the ride was quiet. The expectation was electric in the air, though, and they very carefully did not touch. Steve had the feeling that Annie knew just as well as he did the minute they did, they wouldn’t separate.

The elevator was one of those lined completely with mirrors and halfway up to his rooms Annie caught him looking at her ass in the reflection.

Just when he thought he might need to apologize she smirked down at him and reached behind her, twitching the hem of her dress up for a moment. The grey wool gave way to an expanse of creamy thigh and, _Jesus Christ_ , stockings. He’d noticed the fabric but he’d thought they were pantyhose, no one wore- not anymore- but  _holy_ … not just stockings. There’d been a  _garter belt_.

Something kicked in his chest and he had to let her get two steps ahead when they left the lift. He wasn’t gonna chase her down. Wasn’t gonna get her up against the wall of a goddamned elevator and find out just how wet and willing he could get her.

Not this time. Seemed like a second date sorta thing.

Steve followed her into his apartment, three paces back, plenty of space, and took a look around to give himself a minute to try and cool his blood.

The apartment that Stark had given him was… well, kind of huge. It was at least twice the size of the apartment he’d shared with Bucky before the war, and that’d been a tight fit for one person let alone two. (One and a half, he thought blackly) The elevator led right into the living room, and that had nearly sent Steve running for an overpriced brownstone just on principle. He could only assume that Pepper had been responsible for decorating his suite, because everything (while still modern) had been done in neutral, warm shades with a few accents of navy blue throughout. He had a huge microfiber sofa and an equally oversized television, a kitchen with every appliance he could name, and two- _two_ bedrooms. The windows faced south, and some mornings he could swear he lived in the clouds themselves.

Tonight, the sky was slowly filling with rainclouds, and all of Manhattan blinked and twinkled up at them from the ground while the moon shone in through the curtains. Steve clicked on a reading lamp, just enough light to see by, and it diffused the sharp blue of her eyes into something dreamlike as he watched her step out of her shoes.

She stood for a moment, staring back at him before she wet her lips with her tongue.

“Still with me, Captain?” she asked. Hesitant. She looked halfway between one of the French girls he’d known in Lille and a deer in the crosshairs. Steve’s senses were running full cylinder. He felt primed. “We don’t- I mean, if you don’t want to…”

Fuck that.

For the first time in a long time, Steve said exactly what came to mind.

“Fuck that.”

He closed the distance between them in a few long, quick strides. His right hand slipped behind her head, cupped the base of her skull in his palm and tangled his fingers in her short dark curls. His other hand fell to her hip and he felt her shudder as he pulled her close and kissed her. Her mouth opened under his and he nearly lost the quiet sound of want that snuck out of Annie as he took the invitation and met her tongue and teeth with his own, hungry for her, as a low roll of thunder sounded from outside.

“So tired of waiting.” He murmured against her lips as he pulled away for air. He niped at her chin before his mouth painted a hot trail along her jaw and neck. Annie clung to him. “Tired of being too late.”

The rain fell loud and quick against the glass, nearly matching the beat of Steve’s heart as he licked into her mouth and clutched at the strong column of her neck.

Annie met him touch for touch, nipping at his bottom lip and surging up onto her toes, pressing closer and closer to him.

“Spent too much time just _wanting_.” he breathed, eyes cast down to hers, and his voice like gravel.

They crashed together until Steve felt his momentum move Annie backward until his hand cushioned her back from hitting the space of wall next to his bed. Her mouth still tasted like dessert.

“I want-“ Steve ground out in a brief space he found between kisses. He’d never been a man to second guess a gift, least not one shaped like the girl squirming in his arms, but Steve had always liked his partners willing. More than that. Enthusiastic. “I wanna have you.” He sampled the skin just below her left ear. Steve heard her gasp when he nipped at her there and did it again just to make her repeat the noise. “Need you to tell me.” He said. “Wanna make you fall apart, please, honey… tell me I can have you.”

Annie let him press her to the wall, but she was hardly passive. Her hot little hands were everywhere, blazing a trail from his shoulders to his hips and with his head bent to murmur in her ear she took her own opportunity to suck a mark into his neck that left his toes curling. Her mouth was hot and wet and that dark animal instinct in the back of his mind supplied that her cunt could only be hotter. Wetter.

His hips bucked at that thought and they both hissed when his cock rubbed against the swell of her hip.

“Can’t have me.” Annie gasped, breathless. Before Steve could wrap is mind around it though, to say okay and swallow down his disappointment because he wanted her bad as breathing just then. She was smirking up at him all white teeth and bright eyes. Lightning flashed and another roll of thunder followed. “Y’could try and take me, though.”

And fuck if that didn’t do him in.

“Can’t-” He swallowed, scrambling to find the hem of her skirt, pulling at the buttons of her shirt. He wanted it off, wanted her skin, that hot little mouth- “Fuck, can’t say things like that.”

Annie laughed and turned in his arms, displaying the zip on the back of the skirt that he’d missed. Her skin was flushed pink in the lamplight and Steve indulged the impulse to kiss the long line of her spine (freckles there, too, running the span of her shoulders, spreading like constellations) as he pulled the zip down and down and down. She made quick work of her own shirt as he sank to his knees, following the skirt as it fell in a halo around her feet, leaving Annie standing in nothing but lace just a shade or two darker than her skin. Bra, panties and garter belt all matched.

“You wear this for all your fellas?” Steve asked with his best rakish grin, letting his hand run up from the back of her knees up to her ass, snapping a garter on the way. She squeaked.

Annie turned back around and Steve leant into her touch as she ran her nails through his hair, scratching at his scalp. From his knees, he was just about level with her ribcage and he took advantage to nuzzle into the soft skin there, reaching up to cup her breast and thumb at her nipple.

“All the guys, sure.” Annie said amiably, gasping under his hands. He felt it when she leant back against the wall. “All the girls, too.” She said and Steve had to press his palm at the base of his cock at that little vision, and Jesus Mary and Joseph he’d have to ask her about that-

But Steve had priorities, and shrugging off his jacket before shouldering his way between Annie’s legs was number one on his list. She gave the sweetest little breath when she realized where he was heading, but just spread her thighs wider when he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the soft swell of her stomach, the gentle slope of her mons and then right over the lace covering her pussy. Her hips twitched and his hands flexed over them, gripping the pads of his fingers just a hair tighter into her flesh before he looked up and up and up between the valley of her breasts to meet her gaze.

“Still with me, honey?” he couldn’t help but tease. His hands were big enough that he was able to stretch just a bit and ran his thumb along her center. She was hot and soft under his touch and he watched, captivated as her breath hitched. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“All talk.” Annie said just as Steve made quick work of her garters. Her pussy was bare, pink and wet and he licked into her even before he had pulled her panties to her knees. “Fuck.  _Jesus_ -” she choked out, hands coming to scramble and clench in his hair. He kept her pressed to the wall, crowded her with his bulk and concentrated on tasting every inch of her he could reach.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He breathed against her skin. It took a moments concentration to get her panties all the way off, but Steve managed it with a rasp of his five o’clock shadow against her inner thigh, and pressed her legs open wider. “Just like that. Gonna let me? Wanna taste you.”

“Y’don’t have ta talk me into it.” Annie said. Steve felt his dick twitch a little at her voice, speech slurring slightly further into the accent he’d caught through the night. She spread, smooth as anything, and surprised him when she hooked her leg over his shoulder and dug her heel into him, spurring him closer. “Such a burden this is for me. Really.”

Steve stopped whatever else Annie might have said with a smirk and long lick that had her arching her shoulders off of the wall and her hand fisting in his hair.

“Lord, Steve-“ Annie gasped. Steve licked again, harder than before, more insistent because damn if he didn’t love this. He’d always been keen on the way you could make a gal squirm with nothin’ but a few touches of a tongue, one of a list of things he loved about goin’ down on a girl. Loved how wet it got too- easy to tell when you were doing it right cause it’d be halfway down his chin, across his mouth and sweeter than anything on his tongue.

Annie kept a strong grip on his head, fingers drifting and curling and gripping at him as he picked up the pace. He figured out pretty quick what she liked, broad almost rough passes of his tongue, and soon Steve was getting drunk on the sounds- sighs and hitching, surprised gasps that get his cock straining against the fly of his jeans. He pressed his mouth to her cunt and sucked on her clit with the intent to conquer and soon enough the slow grind of her hips shifted into little twitches and bucks like she didnt know what she wanted to do with herself. If she wanted it harder or if she wanted it less.

Harder, Steve decided, running a hand up her long, long leg. More, he thought, pressing a finger easy as anything into the heat he found there. He used his other hand to hold her open and liked around his dragging finger, scraped his teeth over her clit, gentle, gentle.

“Steve!” Annie keened above him. “Oh- oh-“

That’s what did it for him. Those hungry little noises and needy, soft moans were gonna haunt him.

He added another finger and redoubled his efforts as he reached up to palm at her tits, only to find that the hand Annie didn’t have carding through his hair was already there, plucking at her own nipple.

Too fucking much. He moaned when Annie took his hand and covered it with hers, used her fingers to show him how she liked it, a touch that was hard enough to make Steve hesitate for a moment. But under his mouth Annie was just so- she was so hot. So red-hot and alive, realer than nearly everything Steve’d seen so far- So Steve sucked down on her clit again and crooked his fingers and that made Annie groan loud and low and tug at his hair. 

“Fuck me-“ she urged, “Please, c’mon-“

Hardest he’d been in his life, Jesus.

“Yeah?” Steve stood suddenly, catching Annie’s legs around his waist and rolling his hips, slow and dirty, against her bare pussy. He could feel the heat of her through his jeans and it made him groan. He couldn’t keep his hands still, palming her ass and caressing her breasts, nuzzling into the soft expanse of her neck and shoulder. “Yeah, you want me to fuck you?” he hummed. “You  _sure_? Cause God, I wanna get inside you. Want to fill you up-“

“Fuck yes.” Annie squirmed in his arms, trying desperately to catch the hem of his shirt. He set her down and they both set to work to get him undressed. He’d meant to be slow, wanted to take her apart nice and easy but he had to take a breath when he found his fingers weren’t- well, they weren’t shaking but they sure as hell weren’t steady as he tried to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. His ego was suitably soothed when he realized that her hands were trembling, too, as she worked at his belt.

Annie got the buckle undone just after he had finished with the last button and as he was pulling the button-up and his undershirt off his shoulders he felt her clever little fingers make quick work of his button and fly. He hissed when she slipped her hand into his briefs and wrapped it around his hard length.

Steve let his head drop back and groaned low in his throat as she circled her thumb around the head of his cock. He couldn’t help it but to press himself further into her hand as she pulled on him with slow strokes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, swiftly pushing his pants and briefs off the rest of the way and kicked them away, pressing himself against Annie once again. He kissed her intently, curling his tongue into her mouth. “God  _damn_  sweetheart.”

Annie reached her arms around his neck and pulled him down onto the bed with her, even as they kissed. When they landed the mattress bounced. He found, as he looked down at Annie, that the energy that had been building between them had settled and the moments were slowing like honey. Everything slowed along with them, but it didn’t to a lick of good in tamping down the heady anticipation Steve felt as Annie wiggled underneath him while reached into his nightstand to pull out a strip of condoms.

Liked it even better when she rolled the condom on and tugged him forward again, settling him between her legs.

It was magic, being inside her.

For a moment Steve just- he just stayed still. Took a breath and took the time to feel Annie locked tight around him. She smiled up at him and he couldn’t help but answer the small curl of her lip with one of his own. He wanted to kiss her again. So, he did. Steve poured himself into her mouth and, skin sparking, started to move.

He pulled his hips slowly, moved just a little at a time- the serum hadn’t changed much in terms of his cock, so he’d always known to take things slow enough to stay comfortable, but Annie wasn’t content with that. She writhed beneath him, rolling her hips so that they snapped to meet his, spurring him on even as her breath in his ear urged for harder, faster, more.

Steve snaked a hand between their bodies and caught her knee with the inside of his elbow. He wanted her open. Wanted to bury himself deep inside her, proprietary-like. So, he pressed forward and lifted her leg up and back. When he pressed, though, gentle as he was, her leg kept going and going until he’d wrapped a hand around her ankle and pressed it to the mattress next to her ear.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he breathed as she arched her back. It pulled him deeper into her.

“Dancer.” Annie panted out a laugh. “I’m bendy.”

No kidding.

Steve screwed his eyes shut, needing to distract himself from the sight of her below him. She’d been sweet and lovely at dinner but now she looked deliciously  _fucked_. Lights sparked behind his eyes as he worked his hips into her, his nerves firing and zinging each time he thrust into her. 

“I’m close,” he moaned. The hand holding her ankle flexed and he was sure that he was going to leave a mark (if not there, then certainly on the top of her breast where he’d sucked and nibbled the silk-soft skin) but he didn’t care. “ _Fuck_ , honey, you’re gonna make me come.”

The friction was delicious, slick and wet and sweet and Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted more or was gonna die without it. Annie’s only response was a strangled sort of moan and Steve cracked an eye open in time to see her reach down between them and touch her clit.   
  
Somehow, the harder he fucked her the more he wanted her. Wanted more of her breath on his neck, more of her nails leaving trails on his back. In the throes of it all, with the blood in his ears roaring louder than the storm outside, Steve never wanted to stop fucking her.

It was never going to last, though, and Steve felt the end breaking over him, cresting like a wave. 

God, how they  _sounded_. His hips slammed into hers, the noise wet and so damned hot. Their breaths were ragged, but it was her words that finally pushed him over and sent him careening into space. The tight ache that had wound up inside of him unfurled rapidly and coursed along his skin and bones until he lost control of his fingers and toes and came in shivering pulses, pushing up into her until his oversensitive cock couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“You didn’t-“ he gasped, trying to catch the breath that had been stolen from him.   
  
Goddamn. He lifted his head and looked down, swallowing down his disappointment. What she must think of him- He’d never been a selfish lover. 

Annie smiled. He could feel her heartbeat skittering underneath his chest. “It’s fine.” She assured him. “It’s- Really. Its okay.”

Steve rolled to the side and tucked her gently against him. “Give me a minute.” He murmured against her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You were just so…. Jesus-Just a minute and I can-“

Annie shook her head and laid a hand on his chest. He looked down to find her blushing.   
  
“It’s okay. You won’t- I mean, I’ve never.“ she admitted quietly. He blinked in the darkness, taken aback. She gave a small shrug and looked wryly up at him “I don’t think its fair to expect anyone to be able to give me something I cant even do for myself, is all.”

They lay there for a long moment and just breathed while Steve’s head swam. 

“Never?” he asked, eventually, dealing with the condom in a nearby trashcan. Steve could hardly believe it. Sure, he knew it was different with girls. Harder sometimes to get them over the edge, but he’d never heard of anyone who just… couldn’t. A weight settled itself uncomfortably in his stomach and it must’ve shown on his face because Annie snuggled herself closer to him. 

“It’s not a big deal.” She said.  They rearranged a bit; Annie tucked herself beneath his arm and rested her cheek on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her and rubbed small circles on her hip. At the window, the rain was still pouring. “Sex is still fun. I still like having it. I just tend not to tell people I’m having it with that they wont be making me come. It can be… frustrating, for some people.”

“Not for you?” Steve asked, still riding high on endorphins. The bed was comfortable and the girl in his arms was warm and soft under his hands. Soft enough that he couldn’t help but reach across and trace her cheekbone, her jawline, the shell of her ear. How could she have never felt like this? It was a damned shame. 

“Hard to miss what you’ve never had.” She said with an easy smile. “Besides,” she said, stretching luxuriously beside him like a cat in sunshine. “If I keep getting to have sex like that, I’d be alright with never coming. Good lord, but you are something else Steven Rogers.”

Steve felt his own self-satisfied smile bloom. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Annie sighed. There was a breath of silence between them and Steve could feel something in the air change. “So,” she said, and suddenly her tone was quiet, nearly hesitant. “I know you’ve got that mission tomorrow. If you give me a minute, I’ll get out of your hair.” She said, quickly. 

Steve’s brow rose and he looked down to find her expression guarded, wearing an expression that matched one Bruce wore sometimes, a closed off attempt at nonchalance. A ‘don’t mind me, nothing to see here, I’m just fine on my own’ kind of smile. 

On Bruce, who’d been labelled a monster and hunted across borders it was unfortunate but understandable. But how the hell had Annie picked it up?

“Hey,” he said gently. “I do have a mission tomorrow, but it’s not-.” He watched as a few wary lines smoothed themselves on Annie’s forehead. “Did you think I was going to kick you out of my bed?” he said, more intensely then he’d expected “I aint that kinda guy, Annie. I was hoping you’d stay the night, maybe let me make you breakfast.”

The silence that he was met with made him nervous; as did the searching look that Annie gave him. She looked torn halfway between two things, though for the life of him Steve couldn’t figure out what the options were. She seemed to find some sort of answer, though Steve could still see a kind of reservation in her. 

 “I am a big fan of breakfast.” Annie hummed. Steve bit back a grin and he watched a slow smile spread across her face, teasing. “And I suppose I should warn you, I’m a cuddler.”

“Oh no,” Steve said, buoyed by some strange current of feeling that sat so good and right within him. Happy was the least of what he was. “Not a _cuddler_.”

“Mhmm.” She nodded. “As soon as I’m asleep, I’m like a human octopus. Be prepared.”

Annie squeaked a little and laughed breathlessly when he hooked a leg around her and was able to swing her up so she straddled his hips. He used one hand to push himself up to sit and sank the other into her curls, pressing his mouth just below her ear. “I’m sure we can think of somethin’ to tire you out enough to avoid that.”

He felt her shiver and felt himself get hard again when she tilted her chin just so and exposed the long line of her throat to him. He felt more than saw her smirk.

“Good idea.” She purred. She rolled her hips and Steve felt her breasts press against him, making him groan. She whispered. “What about a game of Scrabble?”

Steve laughed and pulled her close. Kissed her once, then again and again. 


	3. Freeze

In the year of Our Lord 1870, the passenger ship St Andrew made port in St Johns Newfoundland after just over a month at sea. The voyage from Londonderry had been hard, and what passengers had survived took their first unsteady steps on land, thankful that it was over at last. The St Andrew had been, history would later show, the last of the coffin ships. 

Filled to bursting with half-starved Irish still reeling from the Famine, and with desperate victims of the Highland Clearances, the St Andrew had ridden low across the Atlantic. Somehow the authorities, despite the new regulations meant to prevent such things, had turned a blind eye and allowed the ship to leave overfilled and under stocked. When the coughing began there was little medicine to be had. Stories circled amongst the passengers that sharks had been seen swimming in its wake, eager for the first of the bodies to be thrown overboard. 

The sharks were well fed.

By the time the St Andrew made landfall, over 70 had died. Men, women, children, all buried quickly and quietly at sea while their possessions were divvied up amongst those who survived. 

Anne Lenighan had walked onto the St Andrew just shy of 17 with her parents and 3 younger brothers, eager to find a home where she wouldn’t have to starve. 

She had walked off of the ship, 17 and utterly alone. She had only a few coins sewn into the hem of her dress, her mother’s wool coat and her father’s fiddle. 

There were precious few options. Anne knew, she  _knew_  that she should sell the fiddle at the first opportunity; take the money and attempt to secure herself a position in a nearby household as a laundress or cook. She was not very well educated and had no connections, no family nor friends to call upon, and if she did not sell the fiddle Annie knew that she would be only steps from the poorhouse. 

And yet… 

Anne’s mother (Good Lord rest her soul) had always said that the first word Anne had learned was ‘no’. Defiance had always been second nature to her, and Anne had been known throughout their miserable little village as one to run instead of walk, to sing loud and long rather than sit in silence. Her father had been much the same and now the fiddle in her hands was all she had left of him, of her family and her homeland and the few happy memories she had of her childhood. 

She was scared, certainly, but Anne Lenighan had never let fear prevent her from trying before. 

So, on a bright March morning Anne faced the darkness of her future, took a deep breath and set off. 

Within the week she found a kind innkeeper that agreed to give her room and board in exchange for her playing each night at the bar. The room was over the livery and Anne slept in dust and the smell of horses, but for a roof over her head and a meal each day she would have done much more. 

Anne had a fair voice, a good figure, and had been good with the fiddle before she came to Canada, but with her nights of practice came true skill. She would play from supper until 10 o’clock each night save Sunday, and soon became a local attraction. The bar at which she played, The Green March, grew popular and prosperous. She sang the songs of her childhood, all in her native tongue. She sang bar songs and sea shanties she learned from the sailors. She sang ballads and played jigs and eventually the music became as easy as breathing. 

Anne was 17 years old, though. Pretty and quick witted, with an easy smile and a sharp tongue. Admirers were in no short supply, but there was only one who caught her eye.

Young John Murphy, 21 years old and already a foreman at one of the new mines on Bell Island. His eyes were kind and Anne found his moustache dashing. All her other beau’s made promise after promise of providing for her every need so that she need never sing for her supper again. John Murphy, though, promised that if Anne agreed to marry  _him_ that he would have a fiddle made just for her. 

A new fiddle. For a new life. 

When Anne was 18, she married John Murphy. The reception was held at the March and in a toast the new Mrs Murphy declared before what seemed to be half of St Johns that because of their kindness, The Green March would never be without a singer on Thursday night. She vowed that as long as she could hold a bow or sing a note that she would make the journey by ferry across Portugal Cove come hell or high water. 

A promise like that could never be broken, and it did not end with Anne. For 135 years Anne and her descendants kept the tradition alive, passing on the songs that Anne had once sung and the spirit that she had carried. 

Her spirit that sang out into the darkness, in utter defiance of fear. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The banner hung across the door of the Quinjet. Red, white and blue bunting, with a letter on each triangle that spelled out RGRS GOT SOME. With the gangway down, Steve could see about a dozen helium balloons, streamers and even a cardboard cutout of himself decorating the inside of the jet and beyond that, the rest of the team doing their pre-flight checks with shit-eating grins on their faces.

Steve climbed on board with a smile anyway, too buoyed by his good mood to be bothered with their teasing. He’d woken up with a gorgeous girl in his arms, flirted with her over breakfast, and gotten to kiss her goodbye in the elevator before he made his way to work. For that kind of morning, he’d take the razzing with grace.

He took his first step into the main body of the Quinjet and rolled his eyes when Clint pulled a confetti popper out of thin air and set it off next to his ear. The team all applauded, and Tony gave a few loud wolf-whistles. Even Banner was smirking.

The confetti were multicolored, glittery, and shaped like penises.

“Funny.” He said, shaking them out of his hair. “Very, very funny. Anyone else?” he questioned, taking a look around. Tony had his phone out, and Steve was sure the video was going to make its rounds at SHEILD before the day was out. But Clint, Thor and Bruce all shook their heads so he was safe from them. Natasha just resumed sharpening her knife, her expression dangerously amused.

“Wilson is my hero.” Tony sighed. He was looking at his phone like a man in love. “It’ll be worth putting a rush on those wings now. God, its like Christmas.”

Thor laughed. “It is good to finally see you so joyous, Steve. Our battle will be all the better for it!”

“Hopefully shorter.” Bruce said wryly as he passed by and moved to take his seat.

Steve just shrugged and went to his locker to change. He’d dressed in civilian clothes to say goodbye to Annie, thinking that seeing the uniform might be a bit much so early on. Thankfully whatever ribbing the team had planned seemed to be over (though Steve did watch as Clint drew a moustache, monocle and unibrow on the cardboard Cap) and Steve took the time to shuck on the tac suit.

“I didn’t think she’d be your type, Rogers.”

Steve looked up from lacing his boots to find Natasha looking at him, expression considering.

“You’ve got an average like Bill Bergen when it comes to picking dates for me, Nat.” Steve pointed out with a sigh. “Remember Kelly? Michelle? Amy from the armory? Jeez, d’you remember the fiasco with _Sharon_?”

The few dates that Steve had allowed Nat to drum up for him had all been tall, slim and not that Steve would ever say so out loud (he still had his manners) they had all been… demure. Trying too hard to be the kind of woman they though a guy from the 40’s would go for. As if it wasn’t public knowledge that the first woman to really catch his eye was Peggy Carter, a woman to whom demure did not apply. They were nice enough, confident and self assured and successful but… he had been exhausted by the end of each evening from trying to move the conversation somewhere beyond the work or weather.

They had all seemed to think that just because he remembered a time before the cell phone that he was simple. That when they had given him muscles that they had taken most of his brain in trade. It had been a hard pill to swallow at first, but soon he realized even though it hurt that the girls had really meant well. Still, it was nice to be treated like a regular guy on occasion.

“I think that says more about your track record then mine.” Natasha said as Tony relinquished the controls to Clint, letting him do his own flight-check while Tony moved on to re-checking data on his tablet. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in a civilian.”

“A civilian?” Tony took his own seat. “Wilson didn’t give up the details, just said you managed to score a date. So, who is she? Did she walk into your office like tigress into a Burmese orphanage?” he leered over at Steve. “Legs for hours? Bad news written on her like October of ’29?”

Natasha snorted inelegantly and Steve frowned.

“She’s… sweet,” Natasha said the word in that tone that women could use to both compliment and insult each other “but there’s not much to her from what I know. She’s quiet. Is in a choir… or something. I figured you’d be after a girl with a bit more, how do you geriatrics put it-“ her smile was all teeth “A bit more spunk.”

So what? Just because Amy worked in the armoury meant that she had spunk? Amy had deferred to his opinion on everything on their date including the wine, which he had absolutely no clue about. He had pulled something about dry and sweet out of his back pocket and she had gone along, just like the rest of them, nodding and smiling.

“There’s a letter and a world of difference between spunk and spark.” Steve said, compulsively checking his gear. He always did, finding comfort in knowing that he had everything prepared as best he could. “And the difference doesn’t know who’s a civilian or an agent.” He didn’t bother denying that he was interested in Annie. Lying to Natasha was a lesson in futility when she was interested in something; it was part of what made her excellent in her field. She could be a real bloodhound. “And Tony, she works for SI.” Steve said. Clint started the engines. “Annie’s one of Pepper’s assistants.”

The engines stopped for a moment before kicking back in.

“Mouse?” Tony spluttered. Clint’s head whipped around in his seat, and Bruce actually stopped halfway from putting his headphones on. “You took _Mouse_ home?”

“What?” Steve questioned.

“As in; quiet as a.” Bruce supplied with an indifferent sort of shrug.

Tony still looked like someone had sucker punched him, a little dazed. “That’s the girl you’re so gaga over, Cap?” he asked. “Thought you would have had enough of the ice by now. That girl’s frosty.”

Steve couldn’t reconcile the girl he’d spent the night with with the one that Tony was describing. Annie had been anything but cold! There had to be some sort of mistake. She’d been easy to joke with and quick to laugh and… Steve would just have to ask her about the nickname when he got back.

“Maybe we’re thinking of different Annies’.” he suggested, turning back to his locker. He grabbed his shield and secured it to his back.

“Perhaps,” Thor said thoughtfully as they took off. “But I doubt it. Darcy has told me about an Annie she has attempted to begin a friendship with. Pepper hoped to try and bond with her as Jane has done with Darcy, and when she was unsuccessful, asked for Darcy’s assistance. She has been rebuffed at every turn, though.”

It didn’t sit right. The Annie that Steve had met- well. Steve focused on his gear and let the topic drop, let the team fall into the rhythm of the mission. There would be time to solve the puzzle later, and even if what Tony and the others were saying was true, it wasn’t enough to turn him off going on their next date.

Saturday, they’d decided around their kiss in the elevator. They’d meet at the steps of the MET and they’d walk hand in hand and look at the masterpieces. Take in some of the New York that Steve could remember from before and take the chance to show Annie a sliver of himself he kept covered by the cowl and shield.

Steve took his seat in the jet and closed his eyes, smiling around the odd feeling of hope sitting light in his chest.

Eight hours later, that hope had made way for what Steve could only describe as dread. Something wasn’t right.

They’d landed in Norway with everything on schedule. Fury had ordered a strike on an old mining installation that had been identified as an acting AIM headquarters. The report had detailed a reported stockpile of weapons and personnel, and Fury wanted to take decisive and pre-emptive action.

The brief had been simple. SHEILD would monitor the depot to establish patterns before Steve would lead the team in the primary assault to contain and destroy the more powerful weapons, with the SHEILD support team following to complete clean up and containment as necessary. They’d decided to bring in the whole team, in a bid to keep the assault short and sweet.

Well, the assault started on schedule after 18 hours of observation from SHEILD’s recon unit but that was the only thing that had gone as planned.

AIM had known they were coming. The enemy had been armed to the teeth from the first punch, and there was nothing short or sweet about the way that wave after wave of AIM sentries came crashing out of their compound. Steve had called a code green only an hour into the fight, and even after Hulk had started smashing, Steve had been forced to call in SHEILD agents as reinforcements.

It probably would have been nice if the recon report had mentioned that the soldiers they’d be facing were robotic.

For six hours it seemed like for every robot they cut down, there were three more ready to go. Six hours of desperate attempts to corral the fighting, of focusing Hulk’s energy, of trying to find the source of the robotic soldiers.

And then, something changed.

The robots kept coming, but their rate had decreased. They stopped being overwhelming. The compound started to clear.

“Hey, Cap.” Tony had said over the comm as Steve fought the last of a group of robots near the main building. “Skies are pretty well clear. Got the last of the EMP’s, but they took out half my thrusters, so I’m grounded. Think you guys could take it from here? Not that I’m not totally invested in, you know, terminating these terminators, but if I leave now I could still probably make the conference and earn some serious brownie points with Pepper.”

“What do you think, guys?” Steve had asked, landing a satisfying hit to the last robot in his area. He shouldered his shield and started jogging toward the door.

“We’ve got this.” Natasha had said.

“Yeah.” Clint had replied. “Give the old man the night off.”

Steve had grinned over the sound of Tony’s indignant squawk. It reminded him of a time in the north of Italy, he and Bucky had- well.

Steve thought a lot about Bucky, before and after the deep freeze. He thought about Bucky a lot. So, when he and the team finally broke through AIM’s last line of defense and crashed their way into the main building of the mining operation, only to find it stripped to the studs without a sign of weapons in sight, Steve’s first thought was something Bucky had told him after Steve had scraped his pennies together and bought a magic kit.

“The hell you gonna do with that, Stevie?”

Even at eleven, Bucky had had a mouth on him.

He had just grinned and held up the kit for inspection “I’ll do an act, Buck!” he had had it all figured out. Busk on streetcorners, then maybe do a couple dog and pony shows, join a circus maybe? Bucky could be a clown. Or an acrobat. Or a lion tamer! Bucky could do anything but Steve? Steve would be a magician.

“Just remember, punk,” Bucky had said with one of his cat-and-canary grins. He palmed one of the pennies that Steve had somehow managed to have left over and made it jump from one hand to the other. Steve glared. Acrobat. Lion tamer. Magician was _his_ shtick. “You ain’t making somethin’ disappear, yer just givin’ them a reason t’look the other way.”

It was another hour of fighting; an hour after Tony had taken off in the Quinjet back to New York when he broke into the storage building through the door, expecting a fight on the other side.

God fucking damn it.

“Captain!” called Thor from the other side of the room, his voice booming even more than usual. “There are no more robots.”

In the middle of the room were 6, maybe 7 missiles. That was it. Stacked neatly in the middle of the room. Not even a pistol on the ground.

“Nat?” Steve called over the comm. “How’s your level?” They might have hidden them, he reasoned. Maybe the rest of the weapons had been placed underground.

“Clear, Captain.” Nat reported back from the basement. “Power supplies for the ‘bots, but nothing else. No signs of living personnel.”

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth and sighed. “Fall back to the jet.” He ordered. “Clint, signal Suarez to start with clean up. Thor, wrangle the Hulk and see if he’s done smashing. Nat, you’re with me. I’ve got some questions for Hill, because if we’ve been fighting for no goddamned reason other than AIM’s amusement then we need to have a talk about what constitutes good intel.”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” he heard Clint crow in his ear, but that was the last that Steve heard from the man over the comm.

It was some sort of miracle that got them all back on the Quinjet, about 100 meters away from the front gates, at about the same time. Steve guessed that the Hulk had grown bored from smashing so many of the same thing, or maybe that he had even grown tired from doing it for so long, but Thor walked an exhausted and pinched looking Bruce up the gangway of the jet just after he and Natasha made their own way up. Clint had bounded in only moments after, bow over his shoulders and quiver all but empty. He had spent half of the battle crouched in the tall pines, darting from tree to tree to get the best angle and to advise their movements with a patience that Steve had never had.

Hill was waiting for them at the top of the gangway, Suarez’s team running past them all on their way out.

“Intel was off.” Steve said and couldn’t find it within himself to care much that it was more accusation than declaration. “There were some weapons but nothing like a depot, just robots.”

“Lots of fucking robots.” Said Clint, rubbing at what could either be dirt or a bruise on his arm.

Hill nodded and Steve frowned. She looked tense. Which was impressive for a woman who, on an average day, looked like a cat in a cage.

“It was a set up.” Again, it wasn’t much of a question, but Steve was sore in places he hadn’t remembered since New York.

Hill nodded again. Steve heard Bruce swear behind him.

“The intel was planted.” She admitted “One of our sleeper agents passed it to us, but has since gone MIA. We had no reason to suspect a diversion but…” there was a hesitation there that set something in Steve on edge. “A situation has come up. We need to get stateside ASAP. We’ll be taking the Citation.” She gestured back down the gangway to the jet that was waiting on the ground. “I’ll explain onboard.”

“This sounds ominous.” Said Thor.

Bruce sighed and his shoulders sagged. “It always is.”

Had he been feeling any less drained, Steve might have fought to have her explain right there, but the prospect of sitting in any sort of capacity was too tempting. He and the rest of the team followed Maria to the jet and onboard where they each collapsed into their seats.

The cabin was arranged along the length of the jet, past a small mess area. Compact but comfortable padded leather chairs sat on the right of the jet. Each was bolted down but could swivel in any direction. The left of the jet had a long narrow table and a few more seats. Natasha and Clint sat next to each other near the cockpit, as they always did. Bruce looked ready to sleep as soon as he sat next to Thor, but the blond was able to keep him awake somehow, muttering and joking with the man under his breath. Steve sat on his own, glad to sit on his ass and stretch his legs.

As they sat, the engines revved and the jet started to taxi forward. Maria took a remote control from near the cabin and began pressing buttons. One of Tony’s holographic displays appeared from… somewhere, dropped down in front of the cabin door and began to project two images. On the left, the image of a middle-aged man dressed in white, standing in front of a white wall.

On the right, video of Tony on the QuinJet as he flew ahead of them, soldering something inside the gauntlet of the suit.

“Hill,” Tony said, not looking up from his work. “Thought I was cleared to head back. I’ve got brownie points to earn, and a tux to slip into.”

“Apparently, Stark,” Steve said dryly. “We have a bit of a situation.”

“Situation’s my middle name, Cap.” Tony snarked. “I’m all about the GTL.”

Steve had no idea what GTL was, but that was moot, because Hill interrupted.

“Stark, enough.” Hill snapped. “At 5:27 this evening the Javits Convention Center in New York was the site of an international terrorist attack.” she said. Her mouth was thin, the line of it harsh.

Steve automatically glanced at the digital clock in the corner of the screen. 7:03pm.

“ _What_.” Tony demanded. His head whipped up and the torch flipped off. “The awards ceremony? Pepper’s there.”

“And Jane.” Thor growled.

Steve frowned and sat forward. He had been thoroughly informed on the last terrorist attack to occur in New York, had talked to some of the first responders, even been to the memorial… but he didn’t want to speculate. Tony was stone faced and still in his seat. New York was Tony’s city, as much as it had ever been Steve’s.

Hill nodded at Tony but kept speaking. “For those unaware, The Javits Center was playing host to this years Keystone Symposia of Theoretical and Practical Sciences.” On the video feed, Steve heard Tony make a strangled noise. “As the guests for the prize arrived, a still-unknown gas was circulated through the ventilation which we believe acted as a sedative. For the next fifteen minutes, there was no contact from within the center, but when police were finally notified they encountered this.” She clicked a button and the picture shifted. The man in white moved to the upper corner and a series of pictures flashed across the screen.

They were pictures of doors at the convention center, taken from some distance. In each door stood a person wearing a vest wired with explosives.

“Every door?” Thor questioned.

Hill nodded “Even the emergency exits.”

“Who is it?” Bruce was slouched deep into the leather of his seat, but his eyes were sharp and focused on the screen. “Seems a bit high-tech for Al-Qaida or ISIS.”

“Whoever they are, they’re fucking nuts.” Said Clint. Steve had seen him staring intently at the video, glad that at least one of the team could read lips. “Seriously. Manson-family, Kaczynski style nuts.”

“They’re calling themselves The Servants.” Said Hill. Her mouth twisted as she said it. “After the hostages were placed in the doors, they hijacked every major American news network, and the majority of the European and Asian networks as well. They’re using a similar satellite hacking system as the Mandarin broadcasts. Since they went live, they’ve been giving a briefing on what we presume to be their manifesto. We’re watching CNN right now.” She clicked at the buttons again and the pictures switched with the speaking man. “From what we can gather, they’re an extremist religious sect who claim to be the Servants of god.“

“Fucking nuts.” Clint said again.

“Which god do they claim to serve?” Natasha asked. Steve didn’t miss the way her eyebrow quirked toward Thor.

“That’s the interesting part.” Said Hill, almost thoughtfully. “They claim to serve _all_ of them. They have elected themselves as representatives for all religions. Christian, Jewish, Muslim… even Taoist, Hindu, you name it.”

Bruce snorted quietly.

“So what do they want?” Steve questioned. Hill had mentioned hostages, but no casualties as of yet. In his book that meant that the situation was still salvageable.

“Not sure.” Hill admitted. “They haven’t made any demands, only threats. So far they’ve claimed that they will ‘cleanse the world of those who seek to play God, who defy God’s will’. It’s getting international press because of the conference. There are scientific representatives from every major first world country in attendance. ”

“I hate religious whackjobs.” Tony muttered over the speakers, obviously distracted. “No one’s fucking playing god. They’re trying to make sure that no one has to die of goddamned smallpox.” He shook his head. His tone was casual, obviously forced. Steve could see his hands on the screen, gripping a gauntlet so tightly that his knuckles were white, tendons clearly visible. “Whatever. These idiots have no idea what they’ve done. Keep ‘em talking ‘til we get there, big entrance, get the girls and go. Simple.”

Some unnamed member of Tony’s flight crew appeared with a sleek black case that Tony grabbed and started in on. A press of a button on his watch had the armour back on Tony’s body and he started to flip open panels without hesitation.

Maria levelled a look at him but kept speaking. “The Avengers are being called back only as a precaution, and out of consideration for your relationships with Ms Potts and Dr Foster. We have agents in place with local authorities and incoming federal officers who are looking to infiltrate the center before-“

“Hill.” Clint said abruptly, his eyes fixed to the video.

“The video.“ Nat said, “Turn it up.”

Hill looked to the screen with a frown but pressed a button on the remote. The man’s voice came over the speakers and the rest of the team turned to look.

“-will of God in his many forms, his one truth. This city, this world shall be cleansed of the sin of defiance!” The man spoke passionately but articulately. “Here, in this pit of depravity, we Servants of God will show the world that there is only the world, only the will of God and our duty to obey. We will show you the true nature of man and the world will weep and beg for salvation.” Steve watched as the man smiled and felt something settle cold and hard in his stomach. “This lesson will be illustrated, and you of the world _will_ watch. We Servants have created a new parable… that of the sinner and the flame.”

The camera suddenly cut away from the man in white and next showed a grey concrete room. Hill was speaking into her comm link as soon as it changed, but Steve focused on the screen.

The room was square, no windows in the camera’s view and only one door, on the far left of the screen. It looked like a large maintenance closet. The camera looked like it was mounted in the upper left corner of the room. There were boxes in the bottom right corner and a small table near the door. In front of the door stood another man in white, different from the first. He had a gun in his hand. 9mm.

There were two chairs in the room, in each upper corner of the screen. A woman was tied to each chair, their arms held tightly behind them. They had cloth gags tied around their mouths.

A third woman hung from the ceiling, a chain wrapped from an overhead pipe to her left wrist, holding her high enough that her toes brushed the floor with no purchase.

From the angle of the camera, they had a visual on two of the women but the third hung with her back to the camera.

The picture from the camera was good, he noted idly. But that wasn’t really what mattered. He had worked with bad quality video before.

What mattered is that he recognized the two women he could see.

Tony and Thor did too.

“They have touched my Jane!” Thor bellowed, halfway to the door. “I will not sit idly by-“

“I can fly faster than this piece of shit Cessna-“ Tony snapped from his half of the screen.

“Stand down!” Hill barked out.

Both men staggered to a halt. Steve could almost taste the fear in the air, the bitter tang of Thor’s rising rage.

Steve wiped a hand over his face tiredly. Jesus. It was true. Tony might have had a chance to get there before the jet, even with his hour and a half head start, but only if his suit was fully operational.

“Save your strength Thor. And Tony, your suit’s still banged up.” He could see the man about to protest and interrupted the outburst. No matter their worry for Pepper and Jane, they couldn’t go in half-cocked. “Tony, get your suit up and running before you land so you can do your part and kick these guys in the teeth.”

Tony sat and Steve pretended not to see the tremor work its way through him. “Gonna be doin’ more than, Cap.” He said darkly.

“If my Jane is harmed,” Thor rumbled as he sat, too “I will burn the very memory of these villains from the world.”

“What’s our eta?” Steve asked briskly.

“We’re two hours out.” Hill said in between clipped sentences into her comm. The QuinJet was fast, but maybe not fast enough.

Steve looked to Clint and Natasha as Tony swore and Thor’s expression grew murderous. “What do you see?”

“Pepper and Jane are cuffed and gagged.” Natasha said clinically. “But the other one…. They’ve singled her out.”

“Goon with a gun is nervous as a whore in church.” Said Clint. “Sweatin’ through that shirt pretty quick for the only one in there with a weapon.”

Suddenly, the goon was moving. He walked over and none-to-gently kicked Pepper and Jane awake. He took the third woman by the shoulder, shook her roughly and spun her to face the camera. He ripped the sack off of her head, exposing her face.

Steve felt his breath leave him.

“Annie.”

On the screen, Annie blinked sluggishly around a black eye. Blood streamed from a cut near her hairline, staining a long red line that trailed down, fell across the delicate bridge of her nose and wound a crooked trail down her right cheek.

Steve could only watch, fists clenched and chest tight.

He could only watch, staring desperately at Annie’s picture on the screen.

He could only watch.


	4. Ad Lib

12 HOURS EARLIER

 

Annie was humming, buzzing, absolutely  _ vibrating _ with a kind of joy that felt big enough to split her at the seams. She forced herself to wait until the elevator doors closed behind her, made herself take three long breaths in the silence of the office before she let herself give in to the impulse she’d been curtailing all morning.

She laughed, let the delight and surprise bubble out of her in giggles and an excited squeak. 

Holy  _ shit _ .

Annie laughed even louder, ran on the spot in an exuberant burst of energy and breathlessly ran for her desk.

Steve (glorious, beautiful, wonderful  _ Steve _ ) had kissed her awake, and kissed her at breakfast, and kissed her goodbye in the elevator even while he’d asked her out on another date. 

_ And _ her security pass was still valid. She still had a job.

Annie felt like she could fly. Like her body was too small for all the little sparks running through her, like she was ready to burst with giddy joy. It had been  _ perfect _ , all of it. Perfect. 

She wanted to- Annie bounced when she made it to her chair and bit at her lip. She gave a cursory look around the office, debating, even though she already knew the answer to her question. The office was empty. Steve had offered to pay for a cab to take her back home, but Annie always kept a change of clothes at her desk just in case, so she’d been happy enough to get to work a few hours early. 

And now she was buzzing, fingers tapping complicated rhythms on her desk, and she was all alone for at least the next fifteen minutes.

So, like, it was a no-brainer. 

The thing about Annie’s obsession and near encyclopaedic knowledge of musicals was that, should she ever have the urge to break out into song and dance, she could take her pick of at least a dozen routines that she’d already memorized. 

The violins were already humming in her mind when Annie smiled and started to hum, almost skipping toward her desk. 

“ _ I’m singin’ in the rain _ ,” Annie began softly, sitting at her desk and spinning herself on her chair once. She reached under the desk for her bag. She could see Don Lockwood in her minds eye, and knew just how lovestruck he felt. She wanted to think she felt the same way. “ _ Just singin’ in the rain… What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again… _ ”

The thing about having a lot of jobs, and even more hobbies, was that Annie had to keep a lot of stuff with her at all times. She had a binder of sheet music, jazz shoes, a half-used pack of bobby pins, a full compliment of make-up (stage and everyday), a set of clothes for the office, three dance leotards and six pairs of tights, a harmonica, hairspray, sewing kit and a dozen other random things all packed into a camping bag that she kept stashed under her desk in case of emergencies. 

Annie wasn’t looking for hairspray though. 

She found her tap shoes without fuss and kept up the song as she slipped them on, humming the accompaniment. 

“ _ The sun’s in my heart, and I’m ready for love… _ ” She stood and gave an experimental shuffle on the office’s marble floor, feeling out how loud the taps would echo. Annie grinned. “ _ Let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from the place… Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face!” _

Annie started to saunter around the empty office, letting her steps glide as light as her mood. 

“ _ I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain… just singin’, singin’ in the rain… _ ” Annie crooned. She tapped out the easy 4/4 time and whistled the melody as she picked things up with her feet. 

She might have gone to school for ballet, but there had always been something about tap that Annie loved. When she danced tap, Annie  _ was _ the music. She was the beat, and the melody, the syncopation and the accompaniment. She could be her own orchestra, be the physical representation of her own heartbeat through the flash of her feet. She played to an invisible crowd, set somewhere just to the left of Tanya’s desk, and did a trickadiddle step into a quick pullback. 

She thought of Steve and sighed dreamily. 

Annie laughed and threw together a few paradiddles, a few scuffs and stomps, and let herself wonder if Steve knew how to dance. 

“ _ Dancin’ in the rain _ ,” she could almost feel the rain on her skin. Wished she had an umbrella, wished she had a stair unit to do a little step bit, but made do with a few impressive triple-time steps and a series of three double fouettes that ended with her sinking back into that lazy skip around the room. “ _ Da dah dee, da dah da… I’m happy again _ !” she tapped her happiness against the tile. 

“ _ I’m singin’… _ ” she finished slowly, twirling to a stop back at her desk. Annie sank gracefully into her chair “ _ And dancin’ in the rain.” _

Annie listened to the last echo of her voice in the office end, and somehow Annie felt even lighter then when she started. It was like- Annie swallowed down the building pressure near her heart. It was like the universe had flipped a switched. Or maybe not that drastic. It wasn’t as if there was hope where none had been before (Annie wasn’t  _ that _ dramatic, thanks, she knew that no man was the key to happiness) but maybe it was like finding a door that wasn’t locked in the first place. Or even a window. 

Something had finally come into her life that she hadn’t had to bite and claw and scratch to get. 

Things, Annie decided as she put her tap shoes back into the bag, slipped back into her flats and pulled a new blazer over her blouse, were finally looking up. 

But up or down or even sideways, there was work to be done and Annie got to it with a smile on her face, dreaming of Saturday afternoons. 

Ms Potts walked into the office at eight forty five, her usual fifteen minutes early, and only gave the slightest pause at seeing Annie already at her desk. Then it was the usual hellos and the usual ‘Annie could you please-‘ and it was all so normal that Annie had to check her phone just to make sure that she hadn’t dreamed Steve up, that his number was still there. 

Yep. Still there. 

So, Annie worked with a smile a mile wide hiding just below the surface of her expression, ready to make a break for it. She filled out forms and sent dozens of emails and negotiated three more appearances for the Maria Stark Foundation before it was time to gather the troops and leave the tower. 

She and Ms Potts met Dr Foster and Darcy at the valet station, where Mr Hogan was waiting with one of Stark Industries sleek black armoured SUV’s. 

Dr Foster looked well-put together, and decidedly uncomfortable. She kept smoothing out her smart skirt, fiddling with the cuffs of her matching blazer. Darcy buried deep in her phone, chewing gum, which looked weird because she was wearing a pretty stunning little black dress. 

“Jane!” Ms Potts grinned as Annie followed her forward. She hugged the smaller woman. “You look lovely. Are you excited?”

“Excited to go to the symposium? Yes.” Dr Foster said wryly. “Less excited to parade myself in front of everyone in these deathtraps.” She stuck out a leg and waggled her high-heeled foot. “I feel like an antelope.”

“Antelope are graceful, Janey.” Darcy smirked. “You’re a bit more Bambi on Ice than African savannah.”

Ms Potts smiled beatifically. “You’ll do just fine, Jane. I’m just happy to be able to share this with you! You really do deserve it.”

Dr Foster grinned, a little smug and a lot self-satisfied. “I really do.”

“Who the hell else was going to win?” Darcy said with her own smirk. “That guy who made that new kind of cement? Oooh, I’m getting all tingly just thinking about it.”

Annie wanted to add her own congratulations but- 

“Ladies.” Mr Hogan interrupted. “Car’s good to go. Gotta leave now if we want to beat the traffic.”

Ms Potts lead them all to the car, and Annie let everyone else pile in before she followed herself. Darcy, Dr Foster and Ms Potts all took a seat in the back, content to be squeezed together as they laughed and teased Dr Foster for tripping as she got into the car. So, Annie took a seat on her own in the second row and contented herself with staring out the window as New York passed by. 

It was one of those evenings where it felt like everyone in the world had piled into the city. The sidewalks they drove past were all bustling with people, the roads full of cars. Everyone was heading to one of a probable hundred things that were going on in the city that night. Beyoncé was playing at the Garden, the Nets had a game against the Bulls at the Barclay centre, not to mention all of the tourists going to see all of the shows on the Great White Way, or to the Empire State building, or to the Met, or- or- Annie’s brain filled with attractions and she felt a surge of fondness for the city that she called home now. New York really never did sleep.  

They made pretty good time to the Javits centre, arriving just before their scheduled eta of five pm. Mr Hogan pulled the car around to the back of the building, skirting around the towering glass walls to the service entrance. 

Annie caught sight of the security checkpoint as they rounded the corner, three guys in matching navy windbreakers with an obvious metal detector in hand. She reached into her purse and pulled out the four security passes that she’d been mailed the week before and handed one to Ms Potts, one to Dr Foster and one for Mr Hogan. The other she kept for herself. 

“Sorry, Darcy,” she said as she handed them out. “There wasn’t time to get you a pass, so you’ll have to go through the scan.”

Darcy swallowed. “What?” she laughed nervously. Annie’s eyes narrowed. Darcy fiddled with the strap of her bag. “What are they gonna be looking for? People trying to sneak in vinegar to mess with the model volcanoes?”

“Darcy, there’s millions of dollars of scientific research here.” Dr Foster explained, pinning her pass to her blazer. “The best scientific minds from all over the world are here. It’s like… the science Oscars. Of course there’s security.”

Darcy didn’t say anything to that, and maybe that should have tipped Annie off. 

Still, she was startled when Darcy stopped her from following Dr Foster and Ms Potts out of the car and looked up from where Darcy had grabbed her arm, up to her nervous eyes. 

“So, I fucked up.” Darcy whispered. 

Mr Hogan was leading Ms Potts and Dr Foster to the checkpoint. Annie frowned.

“Fucked up  _ how _ , exactly?” She asked. 

“I didn’t know that I hadn’t been cleared for security,” Darcy explained in a rush of words “And Jane couldn’t decide on what to wear tonight so then I didn’t have as much time to get ready, so I just grabbed the first bag that I found and it turns out-” Annie watched, eyes wide, as Darcy rummaged through her bag and produced… a sleek black Taser. 

“Darcy!” Annie hissed. Oh fucking  _ fuck _ . Something in her chest, and something similar in her gut all twisted and fell and… Annie had a bad  _ bad _ feeling about all of this. 

“I forgot it was there!” Darcy hissed back. She clutched it in her hand. “Look, usually I’d just flirt it past security, or leave it in the car, but this night is super important to Jane. Thor’s off saving the world and I need to be there for her, and I cant do that when I have a suped up death-stick on my person.”

Annie clapped a hand over her eyes, trying not to envision either one of them in prison orange. “ _ Darcy _ .”

“And,” Darcy kept on, “I cant give it to Pepper, because Tony made me promise not to tell her that he tricked it out for me. So I need you to do me a solid and work some magic and  _ help me _ .” She pleaded.

“Okay, okay.” Annie muttered. Jesus, what the hell. “Just- give it here.” She said, trying not to focus on Darcy’s relieved expression. She wanted to be mad, damnit. Who the hell just had a Taser lying around?

Darcy handed over the Taser and Annie took a deep breath before starting to reach down her shirt.

“What the fuck?” Darcy squeaked, eyes big as saucers.

“They wont pat me down.” Annie said, feeling only mildly hysterical “But they’ll probably check my bag. Look, I don’t have anywhere else to put it!”

“At least make sure the safety’s on!” Darcy demanded. Annie opened her palm and let Darcy point out the buttons. “Look. See? Safety, On/Off, and then Supercharge.” She explained, incredulous. “It’s got enough charge to stop a heart so if you’ve got like… perky nips, maybe think of another plan.”

Annie, careful of the safety, put the Taser back in her bra and tried her best to smooth out the lump it caused under her shirt. She might not have been as… gifted as Darcy in terms of boobs, but she wasn’t exactly flat, so everything settled pretty easily. 

“Dude,” Darcy said as she hopped out of the car. She looked completely blown away. “This is like, super cool of you. I didn’t think you’d be so chill about this! I owe you. Big time.”

“ _ Big time _ .” Annie muttered to herself as Darcy skipped away. “Bury a  _ body _ big time.” She patted her chest down one last time before the valet made it to the car and she hopped out herself, making a quick getaway to where Ms Potts and the others were waiting. 

By the time Annie made it to security, Ms Potts, Mr Hogan and Dr Foster had all already been cleared and were milling around while Darcy got a thorough pat-down from one of the three surly looking security guards. Annie had met her fair share of venue security since she had started working for SI, but she’d never seen any guys so… dead behind the eyes as these ones. They were all business, though, and with what Annie had lying next to her heart, Annie would have been more comforted by a little less competency. 

Pepper may not have mentioned what had happened yesterday, but Annie doubted she’d be able to ignore Annie getting caught sneaking a lethal weapon in to the symposium. 

So, when one of the two guards not busy with Darcy approached her, Annie slapped on a careless expression and flashed her security badge. 

“Annie Ryan.” He grunted. It was less a question than a statement, and Annie nodded with what she hoped was a breezy sort of smile.

“That’s me!” she grinned. He flicked his heavy eyes from her pass to her face a few times, like she was being carded at a club. Annie started to sweat. The way he looked at her left her stomach in knots. 

It seemed to take an eternity, but he finally handed her pass back to her, seemingly satisfied. Annie took it back with a delicate grip, and her heart stuttered when he didn’t let it go immediately. 

Annie blinked her eyes up and the stutter in her chest turned into an all-out stall because- because, Oh God- over his shoulder-

“I hope today is enlightening, Miss Ryan.” The guard’s eyes drew her attention and the cold dread that had pooled in her stomach faded as suddenly as it had came, leaving a heavy ache that she couldn’t shake. His eyes were dark, deep and Annie was reminded of the cold of the ocean. 

Annie blinked again, and cleared her head. She forced out a quick thank you and moved as quickly as she could away from him, following at Ms Potts heels as she and Dr Foster led the way into the building. 

It was stress, Annie was sure. Just stress. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and this was no different. It was just her stupid imagination fixating on Darcy’s stupid Taser planted firmly at second base. Of course death was on her mind. 

But- Annie could have sworn, would have sworn on a stack of bibles and on her fathers grave, that she had seen… well, something. A figure. Looming just behind the back of the security guard and  _ staring _ at Annie from a featureless face.

But that was impossible, and Annie was glad to push whatever stress-induced image it had been to a far corner of her mind and to refocus on her actual job. 

So Annie had quick and quiet words with the staff inside the centre, and they were glad to lead the way to the small office that had been set-aside as a green room for Ms Potts and Dr Foster. 

Almost too glad, Annie noted. Sure the guys outside had been gruff and intimidating, but the two men that led them through the buzzing hive of the Symposium just didn’t stop  _ smiling _ . They were like, overly enthusiastic Jehova’s witnesses, and it took more than one stern suggestion from Mr Hogan for them to leave them alone to relax.

At least they’d complied with the appearance rider and had some snacks and bottled water ready, Annie thought. Dr Foster and Darcy tucked in to it all with gusto, and were happy to sit together at the table. Darcy kept trying to get Dr Foster to take a selfie with her. Mr Hogan stationed himself at the door, despite Ms Potts’ protests, but agreed to keep the door open so that Ms Potts didn’t feel as if she was ignoring him. Annie wasn’t sure what kind of sense that made, because Ms Potts was busy at the desk with her own work, but it wasn’t her place to question.

“So, what’s the swag bag at this shindig going to be like?” Darcy asked once they were all settled. There were still about forty-five minutes until the actual awards ceremony began, and Annie was keeping busy going over a last revision of Ms Potts speech for the teleprompter. Annie picked a far corner of the table to work, not wanting to intrude on the others. “Pocket protectors and CASIO watches?”

Dr Foster laughed. “I don’t think there’s a swag bag. At least, not for the awards. The booths usually just hand out pens. So, at least you wont have to have JARVIS order stationary for a while?”

“Janey,” Darcy levelled an unimpressed look at Dr Foster from over her snack sized packet of skittles. “You promised me science Oscars, and that means science Oscars swag-bags. I’m sure they make like… Versace quality pipettes or something.”

“BLAUBRAND.” Ms Potts said offhandedly.

Darcy blinked. “Bless you.”

Annie bit back a laugh and looked away quickly to keep Ms Potts from seeing that she’d been distracted from her work. 

“No, Darcy, BLAUBRAND. That’s the brand.”

Annie frowned, still looking away from the other ladies. When she’d flicked her eyes away she could have sworn she saw something… Annie looked around for a moment and- yes, there! 

“Sure, blah-bluh. Whatever you say, Pepper.”

There was… smoke? No. Some sort of haze, coming from the vent in the ceiling. It dissipated within inches of coming out into the open, but Annie could see it. How long had it-

Annie could taste chalk in the back of her throat.

“Mr Hogan?” Annie called out, panic rising.

Suddenly, her vision swam and Annie coughed. Then coughed again. Annie looked, and saw Ms Potts swaying on her feet, clutching her head. 

“Annie-“ Ms Potts coughed. “What’s going on?”

From outside the office, Annie started to hear noises. Screams? Dr Foster fell to the ground and Darcy shrieked. 

Mr Hogan shoved the door open and Annie saw that he had his coat over his mouth.

But everything went-

Ms Potts dropped to her knees. 

She couldn’t-

Her own legs gave out and the desk was coming up too fast-

~*~*~*~

Annie fainted once. 

Sixteen, and one of hundreds of ballerinas, hundreds of girls who longed for the lithe limbs and bird-bones of the professionals. Annie had been cursed with the genetics of her father’s family, her grandmothers’ flared hips and full breasts. And sure, if Annie had been in a regular school her figure might have served her well, but there? In that world? It had done her no favours and no matter how she counted calories or hit the gym Annie always found herself lumped in with the girls the teachers called ‘determined.’

Now, Annie knew all the tricks. It was an open sort of secret around the school. They never weighed them in class, but when the teachers started pinching and poking and clucking their tongues when someone gained a few extra pounds over break? Well, you found ways to cope. 

Annie coped through sheer force of will. No one could have ever called it an eating disorder, per se, but Annie knew exactly what and how much of everything she could have to eat in order to stay in top shape. So that was what she ate. That and no more. 

Until one day Annie woke up on the floor of the shower, water still spraying down, shampoo still in her hair and the realization that she would never be a professional ballerina sinking into her mind. 

So, Annie knew what fainting felt like. 

And that? That hazy swim back to waking, that slow, lazy wander up to the surface of consciousness? That was nothing like this. 

Annie woke back up in an instant, the sudden jarring awareness of her body making her groan. There was a brief moment where Annie couldn’t tell which way was up, only that it felt like her left arm was caught in a vice, her shoulder burning as it was wrenched upward. 

Hands grabbed at her, spun her where she hung (why- oh, where was the ground- god) and Annie struggled against the hold. Something was pulled off of her head and Annie groaned again, blinking against bright beams of light that were pointed at her. One of her eyes wouldn’t open properly, but she could still see a fancy looking camera on a tall tripod. 

The red light was blinking. 

The room she was in looked like some kind of storage room. There were no windows, and the only light came from a bare fluorescent panel, humming noisily on the ceiling. A few yards to her left there was a heavy steel door that Annie just knew wasn’t going to be her way out of there. Annie squirmed, tried to find purchase on her toes, but found that they scraped just millimetres too high above the ground. It left her swinging back into the harsh grasp of the man standing beside her. 

Annie could see  that he was tall and kind of narrow through the shoulder from the corner of her eye. One of those guys who would have been mid thirties or mid fifties depending on the lighting. He wasn’t wearing any weird capes or costumes, just… white. White shirt, white pants. Probably white shoes, but Annie’s head wouldn’t turn far enough to see. 

“To the glory of Our Father,” he said, quite calmly, as if discussing quarterly reports. He held her right arm like a vice. “We offer this lesson to the world.”

A deep and eerie feeling bloomed in her belly. Annie was pretty sure that it was panic.

The light blinked, Annie took a breath, and she tried to- to think-

The man’s grip shifted, and Annie found herself turning to face him. She kept her eyes down, hoped that staying small and staying meek might buy her some time to figure out why she was here. What they wanted with her. She hadn’t  _ done _ anything! Well, she’d done Captain America, but Annie doubted that any of this was about her sex life-

Maybe Annie should have seen it coming, but it shocked her when the man backhanded her. Her head snapped sharply and her vision went white for a moment while pain sparked across her cheek.

“Before the lesson, it has been decided that you will be allowed one last chance to confess. To debase yourself, and beg Our Father for mercy on your soul.” he said. It took a second for Annie to realize that he was talking to  _ her _ . 

The man let go of her arm, and started a slow circle around her. A vulture. Annie wanted to cry, but knew she needed to listen. Steve wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry.

“Now, all confession must come with penance.” he said. “So, I will list the sins of which you are  _ guilty _ .” His voice was ice. Annie took a shaky breath. Then another. “And then, for each of these sins, I will apply the proper penance.” 

Annie heard the clink of metal, the hiss of leather. She hadn’t seen, but knew he’d taken off his belt.

“All you have to do, little girl, is confess.” Annie choked on her breath, on a sob she wouldn’t let go. “Confess, and we will begin our lesson, and will teach this filthy city the true power of God’s wrath.”

Annie stared at the camera, blinked back at the red light. One. Two. Three. A recording light… Someone was going to watch all of this. Maybe already  _ was _ watching. The thought left her feeling exposed. What could she do? She didn’t know what to  _ do _ . He was going to hit her, shit he was about to  _ beat her _ and there was nothing she could think of to stop him. Fuck, Steve could have probably stopped this. The Black Widow could have- Annie wasn’t a hero- god, wasn’t anywhere close-

But then Steve’s face flashed in her mind, and his words echoed in the deep reaches of her soul.

“I’ll start with an easy one,” the man stopped circling, somewhere just behind her. He sounded smug. “You are a  _ faithless blasphemer. _ Do you deny it?”

Annie swallowed. “No.” she whispered.

She knew it was coming, but there wasn’t anything in her life that could have prepared her for it. The belt whistled through the air and fell with a sharp crack against her back. The force of it sent her flying forward, toes scraping along the floor and the pressure on her left arm was nothing- nothing, against the blinding pain that spread along her back. 

Annie’s parents had been fair, loving people. Her teachers had been sometimes frustrated by her, but always patient, and while the kids in the schoolyard had been ruthless, no one- not ever- had raised a hand against her in violence. 

The pain was bad, but Annie half-thought that the fear of it- having no control- was worse.

And it made her  _ angry _ .

“Good.” the man crooned softly. “Good. Now, you are a covetous, lustful woman. Confess it.”

Annie struggled for breath. “No.” she gasped. 

Behind her, there was a moment of silence before the belt came down again. Annie bit back a scream. Bit her tongue in the process so hard that she tasted blood. 

“You deny that you’re a promiscuous slut?” the man hissed. He stepped close and took a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back so hard that it cracked again. “You deny your fornications?”

Annie cracked open her one good eye and felt herself shake. 

“ _ No _ .” she said.

It took only a second before Annie saw realization flit across the man’s face that ‘no’ was the only word he was going to hear from her.

Then she spat the blood in her mouth at the man, leaving a brown stain on his white shirt.

He growled and his grip tightened as he swung her to the left. Annie tried again to scramble for purchase, but found nothing beneath her feet to push against. 

Annie redoubled her efforts when she saw Dr Foster and Ms Potts, gagged and tied to chairs, watching her with wide, terrified eyes. Her stomach flipped. She could see Dr Foster pulling uselessly at her bonds. Ms Potts wasn’t struggling, she was  _ staring _ . Watching the man, and watching Annie, and Annie knew that she was waiting for a moment to appear. 

Annie knew, without knowing how, that there wasn’t going to be a moment. 

There were wires taped to their arms, tied tightly behind them, and trailed across the ground to a pile of black- 

Oh god, Annie thought. Panic spurred the blood in her veins. She knew what was sitting there, hadn’t needed more than a moment to figure it out, but Annie didnt’t- couldn’t make herself think about what the man was going to use the dozens of bombs for. 

“Insolent  _ bitch _ ,” he spat. He let her go and the belt flew again, struck her low across her back. Annie screamed, her voice broke. “Defiant, blasphemous  _ devil _ . This is the thanks we receive? What we get for offering you the chance for mercy? I was trying to be  _ kind _ , but you’re not worth the effort.” Annie heard the leather scream, and no matter how she tried to twist away it found its mark. She heard fabric tear. Felt something wet. Tears were on her face, blood on her back. 

_ Stop _ , Annie wanted to scream.

“No!” she screamed instead. Annie tried to hold on to the memory of Steve, of what he’d said to her over dessert. Get in the way, he’d said. Do what you can to get in the way.

The belt came down six more times and Annie swung, helplessly. Annie thought she could hear Ms Potts and Dr Foster at one point, but it might just have been the echo of her own voice, and she focused all of her energy into not falling into the darkness that was crowding her vision. 

In the back of her mind, Annie couldn’t shake the knowledge that the camera was still pointed at her. People were still watching. And what were they going to see? Annie fell to the blows like a leaf in the wind, screaming until her lungs felt near to bursting. By the time the man was done Annie’s stomach was rolling, made sick by the searing pain in her back, the tearing of her shoulder. 

“No,” she sobbed, head lolling. She might not be able to fight, but Annie would be damned if the man got any other word out of her. “No, no.”

“There’s no use denying the will of Our Father.” The man dropped his belt on a nearby table, but quickly returned. His hand was hard on her free arm, hard enough to leave bruises Annie could already feel forming under his fingertips. He turned her back to face Ms Potts and Dr Foster. Both were struggling against their bonds now. “His is the will of the universe, the guiding hand that steers the wheel of life, and we are made to obey and observe his command. But our world has become a decrepit, disgusting pit. And we Servants shall cleanse it. We will burn away the infection, the defiance that has begun to fester in the hearts of the people. And you, girl, will light the spark that will start the blaze.” he spat. 

Annie shook her head, and couldn’t stop another sob. “No.”

No. Whatever it was. No. 

“This is the lesson.” the man shook her again. He took her chin in his hand and forced her head up, forced her to look at Ms Potts and Dr Foster. “I have a gun here that I am going to give to you, and you’re going to use it to kill either Pepper Potts or Jane Foster.” 

No.

The man tightened his grip when Annie tried to shake her head. He wrenched her back in place. 

“You see those wires, girl?” he asked. “They’re attached to a simple heart monitor. And that heart monitor is attached to a trigger system that is remotely keyed into a series of explosive devices all over this sinful city, including this room. Half of the bombs are keyed to Ms Potts,” he said, slowly, triumphantly “And the other half are keyed to Dr Foster.”

No.

He let go of her face, and there was only a brief moment before he pressed the gun into her one free hand. Annie immediately tried to drop it, but he held it to her palm and curled his hand around hers around the grip. Annie wanted to throw up.

“There is only one bullet.” The man said, close to her ear. Annie shuddered when she felt his hot breath on her. “This is a test, girl. But there is no right answer. You are going to prove to the world the selfishness and ignorance of man when they stray from the guidance of Our Father. You are going to show your fellow sinners that no false idol, no  _ Avenger _ , no man-made depravity can save you. There is no safety, only the fear of God’s righteous anger.” he laughed. 

No.

“As a little added insurance-” He left her holding the gun and Annie flinched when she felt him press something to her left arm, just above her elbow. She wrenched her head back and felt her stomach rebel again when she saw the sensor he’d stuck to her skin. “It’s fitting, I think- A countdown. Our Father gives us all a certain number of heartbeats in our lives, and you get to be one of the lucky few to know exactly how many you have left. The faster your heartbeat, the faster the countdown.” Annie shut her eyes. She tried to breathe. Tried to think. She thought of sunshine. “Your sensor is directly linked to both of theirs, so should you choose to be defiant and waste that bullet by shooting me? Or if you try and remove your sensor? It will detonate  _ both _ sets of explosives.”

_ No _ .

“So, make your choice.” he stepped away from her and left Annie cradling the gun in one careful hand. He walked and stood in between Ms Potts and Dr Foster and spread his arms. “And know that it doesn’t matter. Death comes for us all tonight! We devout Servants will be welcomed into the fold of Our Father, and those who have lived the path of sin will be cast out and punished. There is no saving them.” he smiled and it was cold. Annie was cold. “There is no hope. No miracle. Only your choice. And I would make it quick, girl.”

Over his head, on the wall, a small digital clock flickered to life. 

400

399-98-9796

Annie’s limbs were heavy, sluggish and she struggled to find her feet and time had slowed, slowed like honey, thick and muffled and everything was strange and she didn’t  _ understand- _ Her heart pounded against her ribs and Annie needed to find something, anything, to stop this madness because there was no good reason and it made no sense and it couldn’t be real-

“Do you know why you’re the one to make the choice?” the man kept up his pacing, three long strides between Dr Foster and Ms Potts. Dr Foster was sobbing loudly behind her gag but Ms Potts was quiet, silent tears falling down her face. 

Annie wasn’t a hero. Hell, she was barely even a  _ secretary _ . She couldn’t-

“It is because you are  _ nothing _ .”

Annie’s breath hitched, caught in her throat. She felt, more than heard, the small whine that escaped her and she-

She felt-

“It is because you are  _ simple _ .”

She felt it slip, felt it wedge between her ribs and her breast and the underwire of her bra, felt it sit just to the left her rabbit heart.

324-23-222120-19

“You are the lowest common denominator of this disgusting, godless city. You are unimportant in every way.”

She had to  _ think _ .

_ What does this guy want to do? _ Annie heard Steve’s voice in her mind. _ You ask that and then you do your best to get in the goddamned way. _

286-85

_ Look.  _ Darcy’s voice echoed. _ Maybe think of another plan. _

Think of another plan. 

Think of  _ another plan _ . 

Annie shifted her grip on the gun. Settled it further into her palm. It was heavy, and the cold of the metal was slowly warming under her touch.

_ In the moment,  _ Steve’s voice came to her again.  _ When it’s down to giving them what they want or getting in the way? It’s the easiest decision you’ll ever make. _

2545352-251

It was funny just how easy it was, not only to decide, but to actually raise the gun and pull the trigger. 

The shot was as loud as the scream in Annie’s ears, and the force of it set her spinning where she hung, gun flying from her hand. She made a low pained grunt and tried to right herself, but kept scraping the floor without purchase. Her shoulder felt seconds away from separating but Annie threw herself back against it to stop her mad twirling. 

“Defiant bitch!” the man screeched.

When Annie finally was able to come to a stop, she found him lying prone between Dr Foster and Ms Potts, clutching at the rapidly spreading red on his right side. His face was ashen, his mouth set in a cruel grimace. 

“Fucking cunt!” he spat. Annie watched blankly as he clawed at his gut. His hands were stained red. The floor beneath him grew dark. “You think you can defy God? You think that this changes anything? Ha! You stupid little girl. This changes  _ nothing _ .” He coughed, and the noise was wet. 

Annie’s face was wet.

110-10908070605

“So like a woman.” He sneered. “Useless! Who do you think you are? A hero? An  _ avenger? _ You're nothing! Filth! A waste!” His eyes were wide and manic, his voice high and desperate. “You've doomed them all to die, girl. All of those- thousands of people- all because of your defiance! Who- who do you think you are?”

76-75-74

Annie swallowed. She forced down a sob and  reached a shaking hand into her shirt. 

Who did she think she was? Annie pulled the Taser out and stared down at it for a moment, just a moment, god she didn't have- didn't have time- 

62-61-60

Annie flicked the switch Darcy had shown her, set the Taser to supercharge, and raised her head. 

“I'm what monsters like you fear most.” She felt the words settle deep, deep in the heart of her and she knew they were true. 

And that… That would have to be enough. No big speech. No curtain call. No encore. Just a quick bow and exit, stage right.

The red light blinked, and for the first time in her life, Annie wished she didn’t have an audience. 

The man screamed, and tried to lunge at her. 

Annie raised the Taser, and caught his wild eyes. 

“I am defiance.” she said. 

58575655545352515049----------


	5. Going Dark

_ Maybe _ , Steve thought as he watched Annie’s body twist and swing with the force of the current running through her,  _ Maybe this is just what happens when you open your heart to someone _ .

Steve had seen men die. Good men. Bad men. He knew death in many forms. Had thought that it had come for him more than once. And yet…

Steve swallowed- swallowed it all down, and still the thought remained. 

This was the curse of caring, this was the truth of it,  watching it all burn in front of your eyes.

So he watched. He watched Annie’s body move in twisted and unnatural ways, her back bent and bowed, her legs twisted. Her right arm flailed, caught in the current coursing through her, and the Taser was ripped away from her neck and sent skittering across the room, still buzzing. Steve  _ watched _ , damn it. He kept his eyes on the damned screen, watched every spasm until Annie- her body, eventually fell quiet. She hadn’t made a sound.

Steve slumped forward in his seat. Pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

“Wilks, move Bravo into position.” Clint barked over his headset.

The air in the cabin had been thick, nearly choked with tension for the entire flight, but it hadn’t been silent. Natasha and Clint had fallen into old habits and joined in Hill's’ effort to coordinate the operation, grabbed their own comm units and started directing units into better sightlines, better formations.

“Four and Four, Thompson.” Natasha said evenly. “All exits. You’ve got Jiminez. Use him.”

And when it had seemed like half of Manhattan was set to blow, they’d wasted no time in starting what evacuation procedures that they could, even if they all knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

The Servants had given Annie 400 heartbeats to make the decision. An average person would have maybe 100 heartbeats per minute, Bruce had told them, his face nearly slack in horror. They’d kept their real plan quiet for long enough that 400 heartbeats- four minutes, tops? 

You couldn’t get across times square in four minutes, some days. 

But Annie... Annie had-

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed away the burn in his eyes. Annie had been… a possibility, an appealing opportunity that he hadn’t yet had the chance to examine. There was little time to mourn the loss now, though, as they all waited to see what would happen. The man could have lied about having access to another trigger for the bombs. He or another goon could be waiting outside the door to kill Jane or Pepper or both in retaliation for the failed plot. Steve could think of a dozen ways that everything could still go wrong, despite what Annie had done.

So he kept his eyes on the screen.

“Annie, oh god.” Pepper’s head hung low.

Jane was pulling on her bonds. “Pepper- come on, please! Annie, wake up!” she cried. Steve saw Thor shift in his seat, and the intermittent flicker of the lights slowed. “Pepper, break the- you can get-“

“D-defiant little-” the man Annie had shot was growing paler by the moment, shaking where he lay in his own blood, and Steve found no sympathy for his wet and ragged coughs. “Little bitch.”

“Shut up, you asshole!” Jane snarled.

“Annie…”

“Pepper!” Jane pleaded. “They would have gone off already!” Jane’s face was screwed up, in focus or pain Steve wasn’t sure. “Pepper, we’ve got to- I know CPR-“

Hill had a hard look on her face. Steve knew what she was thinking. Was it worth the risk to send the team in now? There were hostages, hundreds if not thousands of people trapped in the building with a group of extremists who were backed into a corner. But the explosives could still be live. She could be sending her team to slaughter.

In a muddy field in Germany, Steve had been made to make the same choice.

He remembered the screams.

Steve saw Hill nod, and the flurry of activity was immediate. 

“Charlie team, go for approach.” Clint commanded. “Tango, I want eyes.” 

“Get that signal under lock.” Natasha said, huddled next to him. They both flew their fingers over their tablets as they spoke. “Sigma; perimeter and containment. No one in or out until we land, understood?” 

Hill paced.

Suddenly, there was a familiar noise. A familiar flash of blue, and then the far wall of the room was blasted through, leaving a hole big enough for Tony to fly through. 

At the first crack of the belt against Annie’s back, Tony had jumped ship from the Quinjet (against orders) and sped ahead to New York, desperate to get to Pepper. Desperate to get there and make it stop, to save her.

Steve understood. 

“Pepper-” Steve heard only that much, only the sound of sheer relief in Tony’s voice, before everything went dark. 

Suddenly, the screen in front of them blinked back on to show the CNN news desk.

An assistant, or maybe an intern, dove out of sight as the anchors straightened themselves out and faced the camera.

“We-“ The female anchor cleared her throat, looking pale. “We return to live coverage of the hostage situation at the Jatvis Convention Center in New York City. We will resume our broadcast and will return with more information regarding the crisis as soon as it becomes available to us. If you are just joining us, we have just seen inside the convention center. A young woman has just-“ she faltered, flustered. She rearranged notes in front of her. “Has seemingly sacrificed her life in an attempt to save the hostages inside the center, and the citizens of most of the lower half of Manhattan. A source close to CNN has confirmed that one of the explosives that was set to be detonated would have had the force of roughly 4 M18 Claymore mines. This has-” she swallowed. “This has provided an estimated blast radius of 1.7 miles and a theoretical death toll at close to 500 000. We are just getting word that local, federal and SHEILD operatives have moved into the center and are working to secure the safe release of all hostages. We now go to Michael Walsh, on location at the Jatvis-“

Someone muted the broadcast. The engines continued their dull roar and something inside of Steve cemented itself solidly around his heart.

This was nothing like watching Bucky fall, but Steve wondered if this was anything close to what Peggy had felt.

He’d- Steve found his eye drawn back to the screen, the last place he’d seen her- He’d have to apologize to Peggy. For doing this to her. 

“Shit.” Bruce muttered into the silence, running a hand over his ashen face. “That was- How?” He demanded softly. 

He didn’t need to specify. Steve, and he was sure everyone else as well, had the same question running through his mind. How had this threat gone unnoticed? How had they been so blind to it, that they were led halfway around the world on barely a word? 

How had they come  _ so close _ to ruin?

“I don’t know.” Hill said tightly. She, Clint and Natasha were still listening to the feed over the communication link, and whatever news they were getting seemed to put her even more on edge. 

“You don’t know.”

The words came out of his mouth before Steve could stop them, and he almost can’t believe the sound of his own voice. 

“You don’t  _ know _ ?” he snarled. Steve watched his hands flex in his lap and felt the old familiar anger start to rise. The same anger that saw him through a hundred back alley brawls, through a dozen nights with no air and just as many fever-hot days. 

“We’re the Avengers.” he said, and something in his voice made Clint flinch in his peripheral vision. He felt everyone else’s wary eyes on him. “We’re SHEILD. We are supposed to be  _ better _ than this.” he spat. “Who the hell even ran background on Norway? So what, we’re acting on rumour now? Shipping off agents and resources halfway around the damned planet on a  _ hunch _ that  _ maybe _ AIM or HYDRA or whoever the hell else has something cooking?”

“Steve.” Natasha said, hesitant. It only made the cold worse.

“No!” Steve hurled himself to his feet and started pacing, mind whirling, scrambling for any kind of logic to scrape together. He could feel his hands start shaking. “That was the play. Send the whole team off, leave them defenseless back home and strike when there’s no one to fight-” he needed something to, to lash out against- to lash himself to because okay, Annie was nearly as good as a stranger and he might know her favorite colour and how she tasted but he didn’t know the heart of her-

But-  _ damnit _ , he’d wanted to learn. 

And now she was-

So, Steve did what he did best and raised a fist. Swung.

Thor caught his fist before it could connect with the wall of the jet, and Steve had never been more thankful that someone matched him for strength. 

“Stop.” Thor said, quietly.

Thor caught his fist, and Steve immediately felt himself deflate. Too- too tired to-

“Steven,” Thor said, and Steve was suddenly reminded that his friend was  _ prince _ . That the usually boisterous man was as well versed in diplomacy as he was in drinking games, and it was easy to fall into the attention that his voice demanded. And Steve looked up into Thor’s eyes, and he expected wise words. He expected a platitude about grief and anger or fear or any of the other wise things that he knew Thor had seen through his long, long life.

But Thor’s expression just softened. 

“I am sorry for your loss.” He said.

Steve let out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he was holding and sank back into his seat and the hollow feeling in his stomach all at once. 

“She was-” Bruce nodded “She was incredibly brave, to do that.” he stated. Like a scientific fact. 

“Steve.” Natasha said. He lifted his too-heavy head and looked at her, found her expression inscrutable as she stared back at him. Beside her, Clint is still giving muttered orders over the comm with Hill. “We have forty minutes until we land.”

Forty minutes. Steve knew what she really saying.  _ You have forty minutes to deal with this, _ was what she meant,  _ because when we land, you will not have the luxury of grief because terrorists tried to blow up half of Manhattan and the world will be looking to you for answers. For solutions. _

Steve gave a stiff nod, and slumped into a boneless heap. Too tired to keep his spine straight, his head up, his eyes open.

Even if, behind his closed eyelids, all he saw was Annie’s body swaying.

Half an hour later, Steve was woken from an exhausted half sleep by a hand on his shoulder. Hill was there, looking drawn but for the first time in the clusterfuck of a mission, she looked near enough to pleased. 

“Captain.” she said. Over her shoulder Steve could see the others all lift their heads. “Sigma team has captured the hostiles. 4 casualties, 27 in custody. I’m requisitioning control of the prisoners to SHEILD. If Bergen was a set up then it means that these idiots are in league with AIM, and we need to figure out what the hell they’re up to.”

Steve nodded and sat straighter in his seat. What had happened at Bergen didn’t sit right, and Steve would gladly submit any and all of those 27 prisoners to whatever interrogation methods Clint and Natasha could come up with.

“What of the one in the video?” Thor asked darkly. “The one who placed the triggers on Jane and Pepper?”

“Guy Travert.” Hill supplied. Steve was always amazed at how quickly SHEILD could aggregate information. “French national, moved to New York 6 months ago. He’s in custody.”

“No wonder he’s a douche.” Clint said flippantly. “Guy? Seriously? His name is Guy.”

“Could have named him Dude.” Bruce said. “What bothers me is that this guy-“ Clint sniggered “has been here for six months. That might mean that they’ve had the plan for that long, or longer.”

Natasha shrugged “Well we'll find out soon enough. I presume that SHIELD had proprietary custody?”

“Holding cells are being prepped.” Said Hill.

“Good.” Steve said “Nat, Clint?” 

He knew the answer, but it never hurt to be polite. They did know where he slept.

Clint nodded and said “Guy and his fellow whack jobs almost blew up the bagel place on fifth.” As if it was any sort of coherent answer.

Natasha just grinned.

Hill looked about to speak but stopped, a small frown forming on her brow as she listened to something said on her earpiece.

“They resuscitated Ryan.” she said.

The bottom went out of Steve's stomach.

“What?” Bruce asked. “When?”

“Atta kid!” Clint exclaimed.

“They restarted her heart-” said Hill tentatively, still listening with half an ear. “But they’re not sure about what her condition might be if she does wake up.” She warned.

Bruce sat forward in his seat. “How long was it?” he pressed and Steve’s heart sunk. He had been in his fair share of hospitals before and after he had been given the Serum. Hell, his mom had been a nurse. He had seen what could happen…

“It matters not!” Thor said happily “The lady lives, yes?”

“We puny mortals have got about 5 minutes without a heartbeat before our brains start having trouble starting back up again, big guy.” Clint said dispassionately.

Thor’s face fell, and Steve could feel Clint’s joy slip away as quickly as it had appeared.

When Thor still looked confused, Steve sighed and turned to the god. “If they didn’t get her heart started quick enough, she might wake up but she might never…” he closed his eyes against the memory of her laugh. “Be the same.” He explained, trying to be delicate.

“She would be returned to  _ barnoeska _ ?” The last word didn’t seem to translate through All-speak and when Thor realized he shook his head in thought. “Like a child? Almost?” he translated.

“Close enough, for a word.” Natasha said.

Thor nodded. “I forget your kind are so fragile in some ways.” He admitted. “But I have seen the Lady Ryan at her best, now. She is strong.” Thor always had a way of dealing in absolutes, but it never seemed to bother Steve. “And even if she is changed from what she was, she has proven herself as a fine warrior, worthy of honor. I will be glad to speak to her and thank her for her bravery.”

Alive, Steve thought dazedly. Annie was  _ alive _ .

It was- No. She was a damned miracle. 

And now Steve was going to get the chance to tell her himself.

Steve closed his eyes properly for the first time in almost a full 24 hours and wondered how he had ever thought he was exhausted before. Jeez, was he wrong. Now, the relief made the weariness sink beneath his skin, deep into his bones. Like catching pneumonia in ’32. His Ma had said that year was the worst he’d ever had. She had thought he’d die at least twice, coughing up more blood than was strictly healthy, his pulse growing weaker and weaker until one night as she had been dabbing at his head with a cool cloth he had stopped breathing.

She had pumped his heart for him. Breathed for him. Kept his body living for him until he had coughed and spluttered, eyes wide. Steve didn’t remember anything about that night other than his Ma’s wailing.

He’d never told Bucky about it. Never needed to, and Bucky never guessed. Steve had been fine, just the same as he had been before.

As Steve reclined his seat (just enough to tilt his head back comfortably) and listened to the steady hum of the jet (Natasha and Clint muttering in languages he didn’t understand, Bruce’s deep breathing, Thor’s humming) Steve could only hope that Clint’s excitement and Thor’s faith were well placed.

It seemed like the blink of an eye, but also like an age had past before the Cessna was able to land at LaGuardia.

Hill relayed word that Tony had touched down in New York an hour ahead of them and had bulldozed his way through checkpoints and protocols, rank and seniority, until he had Pepper, Jane, Darcy and Annie escorted to the tower to be examined by his own medical staff. His only concession was that SHEILD could provide an extra security detail. Hill fought tooth and nail, but perhaps she could tell that it was a losing battle and eventually acquiesced.

It was another hour after that before the convoy of intimidating black SHIELD SUV’s made it through the roadblocks and checkpoints and traffic to the main entrance of the tower.

“Captain!”

“Captain Rogers, do you have-“

Steve blinked as the flashbulbs popped and glared. The press was out in full force. SHEILD agents held them back, dozens of paparazzi and reporters, all waving their cameras and microphones at the team as they passed by. None of the Avengers acknowledged them.

“Where were the Avengers during the attack?”

“What do you have to say-“

“Who is the girl?”

Steve gave cursory nods to the sea of lights but kept on walking. Even if he did have a comment, more than telling them all to fuck off, that didn’t mean that he had answers. They still had no leads on why AIM and The Servants would be working together, or why they had planned on the Avengers to be so distracted in Bergen.

He followed behind the rest of the team, taking the rear as Thor led the charge to the elevator. They rode in silence. JARVIS took them directly to the  72 nd floor , Stark Industries Infirmary level. The wonder of modern medical benefits were clearly demonstrated by SI’s generous benefit package, including an on-site medical wing. All the employees had been cleared out, though, and now the floor was empty aside from quickly moving medical personnel and over a dozen stone-faced SHIELD agents stationed at strategic points. They were directed down the hallway to where the haggard nurse said that Jane, Pepper and Darcy were being treated.

No one said anything about where Annie might be.

“Jane!” Thor bellowed. His cape, somehow still perfectly intact despite the battle, billowed behind him.

“Thor!” Steve heard Jane’s voice from inside one of the rooms on the left.

“Ms Foster, please, one moment!”

The two collided just outside the door, falling into a fierce embrace. Bandages dangled, half wrapped around Jane’s wrists as she cried into Thor’s shoulder. The god carried her back into the room, sweeping her up in his arms like the cover of a bad romance novel. The rest of them followed.

The room was large enough for two hospital beds and had a window that let in some natural light from the east side. On one bed sat Pepper and Tony. She sat reclined, her back against Tony’s chest, and his arms were wrapped loosely around her middle. There were bandages on her wrists, too (though hers had been finished) and Steve could just make out the shadows of bruises around them. Tony’s face brightened when they entered, but only marginally. He looked exhausted, pale and clinging to Pepper closely. Thor sat with Jane in the other bed in much the same way, both oblivious to the harangued looks that the nurse was giving them. Darcy sat in a chair beside Jane’s bed and Steve was pleased to see that other than looking a little red in the eyes and swollen from crying she seemed to be unharmed.

“Looks like the gang’s all here.” Tony said. “No flowers, Cap? Some gentleman you are.”

“How’s everyone doing?” Steve said, ignoring Tony. He took post next to the window as the rest of the team filtered in. Natasha perched delicately on the arm of Darcy’s chair, Clint moving to stand behind her. Bruce sat on the edge of Jane’s bed, casting concerned looks at everyone. Jane was still crying quietly in Thor’s arms (the nurse had finished with her bandages quickly and left) but seemed to have calmed slightly. It was one thing to have Hill tell them that the girls were okay, but to see them in person allowed Steve to relax, just a bit. His team was secure. Safe and alive.

Somewhere nearby, Annie was alive.

“We’re fine.” Pepper said. She spoke quietly, her voice hoarse. “Just some cuts and bruises.”

“Not even that.” Darcy stared down at her wrists, which were unmarked. “One minute I was wondering about swag bags, the next I was waking up with a headache and a police radio in my ear. I just- Sorry.” She said, her chin wobbling. “My face. Keeps leaking.”

“Pain is not a contest _. _ ” Natasha said quietly.

Bruce stood, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to Darcy who accepted it with a small blush.

“We’re just glad you’re all alright.” He said.

“Not all of us.” Jane said darkly. She turned in Thor’s arms to face the room and Steve could see the thunderous expression on her face.

The implication struck Steve hard. His heart twisted. Had something happened? “Annie?” he questioned.

Pepper swallowed “They brought her back but they- they said-“ she stopped herself and Steve saw her squeeze at Tony’s arm.

“Kid’s been busted up pretty bad.” Tony admitted, frowning. “She hasn’t woken up. They’re not sure if there’s any brain activity.”

Something squeezed in Steve's heart. Squeezed tight and didn't quit. 

Darcy made a choked noise and clutched the handkerchief to her mouth. “God, I fucked up.”

“Hey, no, Darce-“ Clint said.

“No! I did.” Darcy spat. “She had my Taser! I was the idiot who left it in my goddamn purse. I gave it to her! No wonder I’m just a lab monkey… I always forget it! If I hadn’t-“ she hiccupped “If I hadn’t left it-“

“Darcy.” Clint said, moving so that he was on one knee in front of her. “Hey, listen. Darce. It’s not your fault. If she didn’t have the Taser-“

“There would have been no way to short out the bombs,  _ milaya moya _ .” Natasha said.

“Well then maybe she’d be dead, not a vegetable.” Darcy hissed. She immediately gasped and paled. “Oh, god, I didn’t-“

Something sour rose in Steve’s throat at the thought of Annie’s body living on alone, just a shell.

“She’s alive because she used the Taser, Darcy.” Bruce pointed out. “She has a chance because she had an option other than the gun. We don’t know what her condition is. Don’t give up on her yet.” 

“We have some of the best medical staff in New York.” Pepper said with a watery smile, though Steve wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure, herself or Darcy. “They’ll do their best for Annie.”

“How close were you with her?” Natasha asked.

“Close enough?” Pepper hedged. “Annie's always been the most private of my interns...” Steve didn’t doubt the need for them. Pepper was a busy woman, even busier now that she was an actual CEO. “They all have their strengths- Jim’s great with business development and Tanya has a great handle on corporate logistics, and it's weird for someone so quiet but Annie…” Pepper shook her head, smiling. “She knows people. She won me over by the end of the interview, so she handles most of my personal public relations.”

Natasha nodded, and Steve didn’t miss how her eyes shifted to Clint. They shared a look.

“Alright,” Tony’s voice startled him and Steve looked to see the man start to gently extract himself from behind Pepper. He stood next to the bed and held a gentlemanly hand out to her. “Lets blow this fascist popsicle stand. I’m filthy, I’m tired, and I want my bed and a dry martini.”

“It will be good to rest.” Thor agreed. Jane started to protest. “We have all seen battle in recent hours,” he said “And there is no better remedy than sleep. My Jane, you will serve Lady Ryan much better tomorrow if you sleep tonight.”

_ If _ he could sleep, Steve thought. His gut twisted anxiously. Half of him knew that Thor was right. They’d been going hard for far too long now, and the exhaustion was deep in his bones. Deep enough that he was pretty sure that if he didn’t get horizontal in the next fifteen minutes, swear to god, he’d take the chance and bunk in medical. 

The other half of him wanted to find the nearest orderly and demand Annie’s room number. To take point at her bedside and selfishly reassure himself that she was still with him. 

“JARVIS,” Tony called “Have the med team inform me of any changes to Ryan’s condition immediately.”

Pepper stood and took Tony’s hand, let him steady her. “The results of her tests, too, JARVIS.” she said. “I want to know what we’re going to be up against when she wakes up.”

When. Steve held that word close and made himself settle. When she wakes up. 

“Yes, Miss Potts.” JARVIS replied.

“There, see? I’m the big boss, I get the answers.” Tony asked, tugging on Pepper’s elbow. He looked down at her with blinding fondness, and more than a little pleading. “Now can we go home? Medical gives me the oogies.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The headline at the bottom of the screen read ATTACK AT JATVIS CENTER. 

It played, in some iteration, on every major news network.

In the top right corner (sometimes the whole right side of the screen, sometimes the left) the video of just before Annie’s death played. It had been edited to stop just before she placed the Taser to her neck. The anchors all spoke animatedly, emotionally about the attack and as they did, the video switched to a view of Times Square. Thousands of people were gathered there in the late summer evening, and as the cameras panned they showed hundreds more arriving. Many that the cameras showed were in groups, some talking together, some crying, some shouting, but a large portion were talking on their cell phones, visibly distressed.

On one broadcast the camera focused on a girl standing in the middle of the crowd. She was young, dressed for work in an office, and she held a sign that she had obviously made herself out of permanent marker and cardboard.

WE ARE NOT NOTHING it read, in big block letters. 

NEW YORK DEFIES YOU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cant believe what a response this has gotten! 
> 
> This is a bit of... I wont say filler, but I couldn't seem to work it into the next chapter, and I couldn't write the next chapter without writing this so.... yeah! 
> 
> As always, not beta'd. If you recognize something it isn't mine. 
> 
> Hope you all keep enjoying! I love reading everyone's reviews.


	6. Exposition

 

The conspiracy theorists would point out, loudly and to anyone who would listen, that it couldn’t be a coincidence that the two of the largest terrorist attacks the world had ever seen both happened in New York City in early September. The Javits Incident, as the media dubbed it on that early Tuesday afternoon, occurred a mere 4 days after the anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center and  _ wasn’t that just convenient _ .

The world watched, just as they had when The Mandarin had held the airwaves hostage, and by the time the unknown woman had stopped her own heart to save the lives of millions every social media platform was inundated with comments.

#Javits became the number one trending tag on Twitter and Tumblr within ten minutes of the broadcast.

#Defiance quickly became the second.

Her face was painted on more than one wall in New York, printed onto posters and banners, tagged on tumblr and twitter. Almost all of these pictures showed her smile during her final defiant act, and no matter what the public was attempting to use the image for everyone agreed that Defiance was a hero.

Even if no one knew who she was.

From the moment that Defiance was titled (first given the name by twitter user @mcreadysetgo), every news agency in the world started their hunt for her identity and information on whether or not she had survived.

“As you can see, Nick, people have been quick to respond to yesterday’s events.” The young woman wore an eye-catching blouse and stood on a street corner, microphone in hand. “Everyone is asking who The Servants are and how they were able to take over such a highly publicized conference. NYPD, Federal authorities and SHIELD have all been tight-lipped on the situation, having no comment aside from the claim that 27 of the 31 terrorists were captured alive and the other 4 killed in a firefight. This leaves the other pressing question of the day, what is the real identity of the woman who New Yorkers are calling Defiance?”

The camera panned to her left and displayed a large mural painted on the side of a building. It was stylized, bright colors and thick, clean lines. A woman in a long white dress stood at the forefront of the painting. Her eyes were a vibrant blue and she smiled victoriously. Her chin was tilted up, her eyes blazing. In her right hand she held a Taser, sparking wildly.

In her left hand, she held Captain America’s shield.

I AM NOT AN AVENGER was written at her feet. I AM DEFIANCE.

Behind her, the artist had painted the Avengers. Captain America was painted directly to her left, Iron man to her right. Behind them were Black Widow, Thor and Hawkeye. The Hulk was painted at the back, larger than all of them.

“Prayer vigils have been set up across the country, even internationally, in support of Defiance’s actions. Religious leaders from all denominations have begun to speak out against The Servants and are urging their followers to attend and pray for Defiance. I’ll be continuing to report in as more details come to light, but until that time, feel free to send in your thoughts to opinions@-“

~*~*~*~

Steve turned off the TV and stood alone in the soft, muted morning light of his apartment. Through the window, he could see the city slowly waking as the morning commute began on the streets hundreds of feet below. It was just past seven, and Steve was tired.    
  
He’d gotten up early. Earlier, even, then he did on most days, so that he could go for his run (five laps of the park when he had time, three when he didn’t) and still be able to get ready.    
  
Usually, his suit would be pressed, hanging on the back of his bedroom door and usually his shoes would be at the foot of his bed, shined and ready. (And usually, the vice around his heart and the stone around his neck were looser, lighter.) But it was Wednesday, not Sunday, and the suit and shoes were both back in the closet.   
  
So he shrugged on the shirt and the jacket, tied the tie and slipped on the shoes until he was neat enough for Sara Rogers’ remembered expectations and made his way to the corner of 107th and Amsterdam.   
  
After the ice, it had taken a long time for Steve to step foot back in a church. The therapists that SHEILD had thrown at him all had parroted the same thing, telling him that after seeing combat it was very normal for soldiers to have trouble returning to their faith, or to never return at all. That it was perfectly healthy to question the nature of the world, to maybe even be angry with God.   
  
Well, no shit.    
  
Steve had spent most of his life angry with God. He’d been a poor, sick kid raised by a poor, sick mother and who had a poor, dead father. Yeah, he knew all about being angry with God.    
  
That wasn’t what kept him away.    
  
The whole thing- Church, the Bible, God… it gave meaning, purpose. And hell, even if it couldn’t give all the answers to all of the questions in the world, if it fell short or stumbled or was outright wrong, at least it tried.

  
But after Bucky died, Steve was- well, he was done trying. How could he? For as long as he could remember he’d been Bucky’s, and Bucky had been his in a way that felt like a law of the fucking universe, that was like gravity and inertia and force and time and space.

  
And when Bucky fell, Steve lost all the meaning there was in any of it; in watching the stars rise and fall. In being. In breathing. 

  
Bucky died, and it just didn’t matter anymore.    
The days came, and went, and the earth never stopped turning. And eventually- eventually- The grief changed. (It never left, never.) It changed, somehow, without Steve realizing until one day, somehow, Steve found himself breathing, and he could just be and look up at the sky and feel-

  
And so Steve went back to church. He found the Church of the Ascension, found a quiet pew in the back row half shadowed in the early light, and found a place to listen.

  
It was a nice church, and one of the things Steve liked most about it was that it was older than he was. Tucked into a side street near Morningside Heights it was pretty progressive, as Catholic churches went. A lot of community outreach, services were held in Spanish as well as English… a mix of everything Steve had known, and everything he’d come to learn.

  
Almost comforting.

  
There wasn’t a service on Wednesday mornings, but when Steve opened one of the heavy wooden doors he could see more than a handful of other parishioners already in the pews. Steve skirted his way along the back until he found his usual seat, and crossed himself dutifully. Bowed his head. 

  
He could remember a kid he’d gone to church with, back when his Ma still was rubbing at the dirt on his nose with her handkerchief, named Danny Hitchins. Danny was an okay kid, as far as Steve could remember. Wasn’t one of the knuckleheads who’d push and shove each other in line for communion, but Steve always remembered thinking that Danny got his prayers and his Christmas list mixed up. 

  
Danny would pray for a new bike, or for a slice of pie, or for a good grade, and Steve found that never sat quite right with him. Praying to God wasn’t like a shopping catalogue, because the kind of things you should be praying about weren’t prayers about things. 

  
Prayers, Steve’s Ma had always said, were for people. 

  
So Steve dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together, murmured prayers he’d known by heart for more than half a century.

  
And he prayed for Annie.

  
It was selfish, Steve decided, but he didn’t care. He prayed that Annie would have the strength to recover, that the ordeal she’d been through wouldn’t destroy her spirit. Steve prayed that God- the Universe, whatever, would give him another chance with her because he’d lost so many people already, damnit and he deserved-  
  
Steve lifted his head when his phone buzzed a low tone, just loud enough to catch his heightened hearing. He crossed himself again (spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch, Bucky’s voice supplied from the back of his mind) stood, and made his way to the door.  
  
He stumbled into the bright light of morning and found Tony leaning on an Audi R8 lingering by the curb, wearing sunglasses and staring up at the church with an expression close to indigestion.  
  
“You could come in, you know.” Steve said as he came down the steps.   
  
One of Tony’s eyebrows made an appearance as it lifted above the frame of his glasses.   
  
“Pretty sure I’d burst into flame if I crossed the threshold, Cap.” He said. “Never really been a genuflecting kind of guy.”  
  
Steve shrugged and followed Tony into the car. “It’s not always like that.” He said, not wanting to start a fight. “I just like being part of something that’s… bigger than me, you know?”  
  
“See, it’s cute that you think that.” Tony smirked, revving the engine. “Nothing is bigger than me, Cap.”  
  
It didn’t take long to get back to the tower. The roads were quieter than usual, a lot of folks staying home in the wake of yesterdays botched attack. Even though it was stopped-  
  
-Annie’s body, swaying lifeless-  
  
-it had shaken the city up enough that people were staying at home. Steve knew that Pepper had closed all non-essential operations at SI today, and he had a feeling that other businesses had followed suit.   
  
So Tony took advantage of the clear roads and jockeyed the R8 back to the Tower quick as a blink.   
  
The team was already assembled in the briefing room when they arrived, and Steve was happy to see Sam holding quiet conversation with Bruce. Sam nodded from across the room, and Steve nodded back.   
  
Sam’s place in the Avengers was cemented in Steve’s mind as soon as the man had proved himself in the battle in Washington, though Sam had initially been slow to agree. It took a while, and a few quiet words from Natasha, to convince Sam that he wasn’t just ‘another soldier’, and that the team could use his talents. So, while the Falcon had yet to run a mission, Steve was pleased to see that he’d at least been welcomed into the debrief.   
  
The briefing room had spent more than a week as Tony’s ‘baby’, and it reaped the benefits of his creative attention. The genius had given it a wall of blackout-ready windows facing another wall of monitors, and a large desk with 3D holographic capabilities. Steve knew that Colonel Phillips would’ve given his right arm for something like it during the war.  
  
Everyone looked grim as they watched Hill manipulate the images across from them, and Steve wasted no time in taking up his own seat next to Natasha. Tony took the other open seat on Steve’s left, next to Bruce. The absence of the Director didn’t get past Steve, but he knew Nick had been in Europe under deep cover at last check-in, and somehow even the spy would have been able to extract himself that quickly. Hill was deputy, and he trusted her to do her job.  
  
“So,” Steve said. He unbuttoned his jacket as he sat and settled into his chair, eager to begin. “What do we know?”  
  
Hill nodded and took her position at the front of the room, looking ready to do battle. “Of the 31 identified at the scene, 24 of the Servants were taken alive.” She waved a hand and a series of profiles appeared on the screens. “All 24 were remanded into SHIELD custody, and each have been placed into isolation. We’re in the process of approaching each member individually for questioning, but those we’ve spoken to already have been… uncooperative.” She said flatly. “What we have managed to learn is that each believes this to have been a personal mission from God, that they were receiving orders from someone not involved with the attack, and one Servant let it slip that this was planned at least six months ago.”  
  
“Jane’s nomination came in March.” Thor said thoughtfully.  
  
“The timeline fits well with background checks we’ve run on the Servants.” Hill said. “Most are American, but those who aren’t all started flying in to the US within a two week period. We’ve got a huge cross section here; everything from bricklayers to biochemists, even a kindergarten teacher. And nothing links them before yesterday.”  
  
Bruce frowned. “No emails? Phone calls?”  
  
“They had to have communicated somehow.” Natasha said, echoing Steve’s thoughts.  
  
“God-o-gram.” Tony muttered darkly.  
  
“So it’s not random.” Clint ignored Tony, eyes scanning the profiles on display. “They knew Jane was going to be there six months back. But how did they know about Pepper?” he asked, curious. “You didn’t make the call about Norway until Monday morning. Didn’t even announce it to the public.”  
  
“Were any of the Servants attached to SI in any way?” Bruce asked. He propped his elbows on the table, brow furrowed deeper still. “Maybe we’re looking at an inside job.”  
  
Beside him, Tony shifted uneasily.   
  
“No records for any of the Servants indicate any connection with SI, SHEILD or any other known organization.” Hill said. “But the lack of connection still hasn’t convinced me that these Servants weren’t working with AIM. I don’t believe in coincidences.”  
  
It was too neat of a package, Steve agreed.   
  
“Perhaps a step back would be best.” Thor suggested. “How were the Servants able to breach the guards? Their origins, I think, come second to their methods. We must understand this attack in order to prevent a second.”  
  
Hill brought up a hologram of the center on the desk, and security footage from the cameras on the monitors.   
  
“The Servants were all installed as employees of the Javits center, for months before the attack.” Hill explained. “The first, Jack Rannells, was hired as Hiring Manager and from there he slowly brought on the other Servants into varying roles. They had bodies in every department that would be present during the convention. Sanitation, technical support, human resources, even security.”  
  
“So everyone shows up for work…” Tony mused “And no one bats an eye, because there’s no intruders. No red flags.”  
  
“From what we can piece together from CCTV, whatever tranquilizing agent they used was placed in the vents well before the convention, but they all activated within a half hour of Pepper and Jane’s arrival.” Hill said. The holograph displayed at least 12 points from which the gas started to flow. “The gas was, according to accounts, odorless, colorless and for the most part tasteless. Most civilians reported a faint taste of chalk before the effects began, and whatever this is worked quickly. Within five minutes, nearly 3000 people were unconscious.”   
  
On the central screen, the security footage showed Darcy, Jane, Pepper and Annie. It was clear that Annie was the first to spot something wrong, but whatever warning she gave wasn’t enough, and they fell one by one.  
  
“That explains the biochemist.” Clint said.  
  
The tape sped, and suddenly Steve was watching as a group of gas-masked Servants enter the room. One shouldered Jane’s limp form, and another two took Pepper between them. A fourth and fifth entered the room and stood, gestured for a moment, then dragged Annie out.  
  
“While this group managed Pepper and Jane,” Hill reported. “The rest of the Servants pulled out multiple explosive vests they’d previously cached, and attached them to 47 hostages that they then placed at strategic points. From there,” she paused, the hologram now displaying where each of the hostages had been placed, where each of the Servants was stationed. “Events progressed exactly as shown. The broadcast began when the hostages were reported by outside sources, and… well, we all saw what happened next.”  
  
“We’re missing something.” Natasha said. “All signs point to this being a thoroughly planned out attack, going back months, with a clear mission and directives- but they either add or change targets 24 hours before, and when the attack went south they had absolutely no backup plan?” she questioned, incredulous. “I’ve heard of high school pranks executed with better care.”  
  
Tony stood, and started pacing. “Maybe they pussied out.” He said. “Got cold feet, but couldn’t completely back down.”  
  
“You think dozens of religious crazies all had the same spontaneous epiphany that maybe God wasn’t talking to them?” Bruce leaned back in his chair. “They’re claiming that they were chosen. That’s not a deal I think they’d re-neg on.”  
  
When Bruce leaned back, Steve caught a glimpse of Sam and something made him watch for a moment. There was a look on Sam’s face, just the start of an expression, and it made Steve curious.  
  
“What are you thinking, Sam?” he prompted.  
  
Sam shrugged a little, and Steve could tell he was fighting not to shrink against the attention Steve had just pointed his way.   
  
“Might be a long shot,” Sam said thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure we’re looking at the right target.”  
  
Steve sat forward in his seat. He could see Thor follow suit, while Tony continued to pace. “What do you mean?”  
  
“The guy in the room with Ms Potts and Dr Foster-“  
  
Hill nodded. “Guy Travert.” She supplied.  
  
“Travert said it, when he was egging Annie on. He said something- like they’d picked her out. Like she’d been chosen. And in the video,” Sam gestured to the monitors. “I swear, they were going for Darcy first.”  
  
“Play it back.” Clint said, and Hill did just that.  
  
Steve swore because sure enough, now that Sam had pointed it out he could see it clear as day. It wasn’t overt, but it was easy to spot where the first Servant started to reach for Darcy’s prone form, only to be stopped by the second Servant and redirected to Annie.   
  
“Why make Annie the triggerman unless they knew she knew Ms Potts and Dr Foster personally, and knew she wasn’t a threat?” Sam questioned. “She could have been a bodyguard, or someone with abilities. But they knew who she was and what she did. They’d checked her out.”  
  
“But why?” Steve asked and ignored the low, cold thing in his gut. “Annie was- is,” he corrected himself. “She’s… normal.”  
  
“We’ll just have to do our own digging.” Tony said. He came back to his seat and pulled out his phone. “JARVIS, I want every record we have for Annie Ryan. Employment records, pay stubs, if she’s so much as signed a petty cash receipt, I want it.”  
  
“Certainly, Sir.” JARVIS said, his voice tinny over the phone’s speakers. “Compiling data now.”  
  
“It is a sound theory,” Thor said. “But I cannot see what these Servants would accomplish by targeting Lady Ryan. Pepper and Jane are seen as more important, and if their goal was to destroy the city, what would it matter who they chose? If their plan had succeeded, would it matter who carried it out?”  
  
Natasha went to speak, but JARVIS interrupted.  
  
“My apologies, Thor. But Sir, I am… encountering an issue which I am unsure how to address.”  
  
“Talk to me, J.” Tony said. Steve watched as Tony, with a few keystrokes, brought JARVIS to life in the monitors around them. Seeing the code appear on-screen, and knowing that it was a… a being, in its own right, never ceased to amaze him.   
  
“Attempts to access Miss Ryan’s records have failed, Sir.” JARVIS replied.   
  
That caught everyone’s attention, and Tony stared up at the screens in confusion.  
  
“Failed?” Tony prompted, flabbergasted. “You don’t fail. You have full access to everything in SI, JARVIS, so that means someone’s been touching you in your no-no spot. We’ve talked about who’s allowed to fiddle with your bits, J.”  
  
“My coding is intact, Sir.” JARVIS replied, dryly. Another window of code was brought up beside the first and both Tony and Natasha’s expressions narrowed as they examined it. Steve just saw numbers. “But any attempt to access digital information regarding Annie Ryan returns either null results, or obviously corrupt and overwritten files. ”  
  
“You mean this happens with every file on SI record?” Hill asked. She started taking notes on her own tablet.  
  
“No, Miss Hill.” JARVIS corrected her. “This is occurring on every file available on the internet regarding Miss Ryan.”  
  
“What the hell?” Clint’s expression tightened.  
  
Tony’s jaw ticked. “In my system?” he hissed. “Under my roof? Show me everything you have, JARVIS.”  
  
JARVIS was quick to comply, and soon Steve found himself staring at Annie’s digital footprint. Even he could pick out where things looked a little… scrambled. Steve might never have taken a programming class, but the patterns were obviously off in some places, scans of paperwork looked either a little too fuzzy, or completely illegible.   
  
Tony’s eyes were roving over the code still displayed, his jaw clenched. “Smoke and mirrors.” He muttered, before turning away and facing the rest of them. “So, JARVIS is a genius.” He explained. “Grade A, gold star, MENSA wishes he’d join their piddly little club level genius. Takes after his old man that way. But this? What we’re seeing here? It’s grade school, but that’s what’s so smart about it.”  
  
“It looks like…” Natasha said, thoughtfully looking over the monitors. Steve was suddenly reminded that she was well versed in computer programming in her own right. “The files have been overwritten, but not erased.”  
  
“Ding!” Tony snapped his fingers. “First round goes to the scary-hot superspy. Whoever did this bit of digital decorating didn’t erase anything, didn’t want to run the risk of JARVIS pinging any mass loss of data. So they slapped a new coat of paint on the joint and did just enough patchwork to make sure that it passed inspection if he, or anyone in SI looked at it.” He explained. Steve couldn’t tell if Tony was frustrated, or elated by the challenge. “It’s like a digital magic eye pic. You can only see the real picture if you look at it a certain way, and right now JARVIS and I have to figure out which parameters will unlock this thing.”  
  
“So, someone’s tried to scrub her from the internet?” Bruce questioned.   
  
“And falsified documents when they couldn’t partition them from access.” Natasha said.   
  
Clint peered up at Annie’s faked files. “That’s a big cover-up for a little lady.” He said, folding his arms. “Gotta say, something smells mighty fishy.”  
  
Steve nodded. It… well, it didn’t look good. There was part of him that raged against the implication that Annie had been a target, that somehow AIM or HYDRA or these Servants had somehow picked her, of all people, to be the trigger-person for their deranged attacks.  
  
And there was another part of him that acknowledged that, logically, analytically, it looked like Annie hadn’t just been a target.   
  
It looked like she might have been involved.  
  
“There is data in which Miss Ryan may appear.” JARVIS said. “A facial recognition program through Manhattan’s CCTV feeds should prove useful. The encryption on Miss Ryan’s files is not sophisticated enough to approach the level needed to wipe her completely.”  
  
“Go for it.” Steve found himself speaking even before Tony, and realized that everyone was staring at him incredulously. He cocked an eyebrow and Natasha shrugged.  
  
“Just didn’t think you’d be the one to suggest it.” She said.   
  
Steve fought to keep the color from his face. He knew what they all must have been thinking. That getting laid would leave him a pile of useless lovelorn mush, that it would blind him to anything that might incriminate Annie.   
  
It was one night, he reminded himself. One good night. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the difference between infatuation and love.   
  
“Just-“ he sighed and ran a hand over his tired eyes. “Just get started.”  
  
“Give me and JARVIS 20 minutes, Cap.” Tony assured him, already sorting through video feeds. “And you’ll know everything you need about your girl.”  
  
Funny. After yesterday, Steve had been so sure that he’d already learned the important bits.  
  
A sudden sharp knocking echoed through the room and Steve turned with the rest of the team to find Pepper standing on the other side of the door, her expression thunderous. The knocking was, apparently, a mere formality because as soon as she saw that she had their attention, she opened the door and strode inside.   
  
“Ms Malhotra,” Pepper called, and a young woman came meekly into the briefing room, dark eyes as big as saucers, clinging desperately to a binder as if it were a shield.   
  
“Ms Potts,” Hill started, but Pepper raised her hand and fixed her gaze and Hill fell silent.   
  
“Ms Malhotra works for Stark Industries, in medical administration.” Pepper said, moving to stand next to Tony’s chair. Tony looked up at her, concern written across his face. Pepper crossed her arms. “Kindly, tell them exactly what you told me.”  
  
The young lady swallowed visibly. Her eyes darted from person to person and Steve was reminded of more than one soldier he’d walked past in the camps, sitting on their bunks and waiting for the next bomb to drop.  
  
Pepper seemed to suddenly realize just how nervous the girl was. “Lily, you’re not in any trouble.” She reassured her. Lily looked up and Pepper nodded. “Please, this is very important. I need you to tell them what you told me, exactly what you told me.”  
  
“I told Ms Potts,” Lily started anxiously, her knuckles turning white. Steve thought about what a sight it must be; to be confronted by a room of people you’d only ever seen fighting aliens on television. “I told her that I believe that Annie Ryan’s file has been tampered with.”  
  
Steve wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the sudden drop in his gut was becoming a little too familiar.   
  
“And I know that I’m going against regulation in discussing confidential material, but when I figured out just who Annie was- what she’d done…” Lily trailed off and shook her head, stood a little straighter. “I knew that I had to try and fix this. And- and if Stark Industries stands by this policy, then I-I’ll… I’ll quit!” she squeaked.   
  
“Miss,” Steve thought the girl looked about ready to pass out, but her words had set him further on edge. Any tampering with Annie’s file only add to the pile of evidence that something bigger was going on. And that was… that was the priority. “Just start from the beginning, please.”  
  
Most of the time Steve forgot that he was Captain America but the look on Lily’s face after his quiet reassurance, like somehow he’d galvanized whatever bravery she had hiding inside of her with just a few words, made him remember the ideals that had been placed on his shoulders. It felt heavy.   
  
“I graduated last year.” Lily started to explain, and though she sounded just as anxious as before, her voice was clear. “And I got good grades, really I did- Mom wanted me to be a doctor and I nearly made it until Cadaver week and I started puking my guts out- but I thought I’d get a job at like, a clinic. Do some reception work, pay my dues… so when I got a call from Stark Industries, headhunting for a new HMO administrator position it wasn’t really a hard sell. I would have been an idiot if I didn’t take it, right?” She paced as she spoke, binder still clutched to her chest, and every second step she looked imploringly at Pepper. “Because like, the salary was crazy good and- okay, I knew I’d have to learn a lot to be able to actually handle the work, but I’ve been doing my best and I thought I was actually getting the hang of things but…” she took what Steve was pretty sure was her first breath and turned to face the table.   
  
“All full-time employees of Stark Industries are entitled to health insurance coverage through the existing HMO plan or they can opt-out, should they provide proof that secondary coverage has been secured.” Lily explained. “My job is to approve or deny claims made within the existing plan, based on a number of factors. There are medical files for every employee who receives coverage, and I oversee their accuracy and maintenance… which I how I saw the problem with Annie Ryan’s file.”  
  
“What kind of problem.” Natasha’s expression was well-schooled.   
  
Lily went to place the binder on the table, but Tony waved his hands and took the binder from her.  
  
“Nope.” He said. “JARVIS, scan it, bring it up. Lets let the whole class see.”  
  
Steve saw Lily’s eyes widen, marveled by the technology as Tony flicked through the pages and JARVIS scanned them in less than half a minute.  
  
“The uh- on page 12…” Lily blinked wildly as JARVIS brought up the page in question. Steve could see the problem already. Half of the page was redacted. Bold, military style stripes struck out line after line. The only thing that remained truly visible was Annie’s employee photograph. “And, page 27?” This time, sloppy handwriting slanted over where something had been whited out, the letters nearly illegible.   
  
Pepper’s face paled. She reached and squeezed Tony’s shoulder.   
  
“Corrections to files aren’t uncommon.” Lily explained. “But any corrections, legally, have to come through me… and I didn’t do any of that. But the thing that made me-“ she swallowed nervously again “The thing I needed to show Ms Potts, is that all of this… whatever it is? Legally, it means that Annie Ryan’s health insurance has been terminated.”  
  
The concept of health insurance had been a new one for Steve to wrap his head around, and Tony had laughed at him the first (and only) time Steve had asked who he should be sending the money to for his Avengers-related hospital stays, so he knew that losing that coverage was nothing to sneeze at, especially since Annie was currently IN the hospital, receiving care.   
  
But… Steve had a hard time figuring out just why anyone would bother trying to terminate her coverage.   
  
“Bullshit.” Tony scowled. “Stane fought me on this one, but I made damned sure that anyone full-time got full-coverage. SI doesn’t let anyone just not have insurance.”  
  
A look of relief washed over Lily’s face. “I’m glad you said that Mr Stark.” She said sincerely “I wanted to believe that Stark Industries really did stand behind its employees, that it wasn’t just lip service. If I had to deny Annie coverage for her treatment-“ Suddenly Steve was aware that Lily looked like she was about to cry, and even more aware of the words she was using. “I mean, she saved all of us. It just wouldn’t be fair if she- well,” Lily swallowed “I knew a girl in high school who died because her family couldn’t afford treatment, you know? It sticks with you.”  
  
The pit of Steve’s stomach dropped and everyone in the room looked up.  
  
“Treatment?” Bruce asked “Treatment for what?”  
  
Lily blanched. “You- I thought that… oh.” She stumbled. “Ms Potts, you should have received a phone call by now.”  
  
“I get a lot of phone calls, Lily.” Pepper responded patiently. “Why was I supposed to receive this one?”  
  
“Well, you’re listed as-“ Lily hesitated “As Annie Ryan’s emergency contact.”  
  
“What?” Pepper exclaimed, “How did that happen?”  
  
“If an employee doesn’t have an emergency contact of their own, policy states that their immediate supervisor is named.” Lily explained hurriedly. “You should have been called when Annie was admitted to the SI medical wing, and called again to inform you of the developments.”  
  
“Developments?” Sam questioned. “Its not like she’s an episode of CSI.”  
  
“If I may, Ms Potts. I believe I may be at fault for the delay of information.” JARVIS cut in apologetically “You received a voicemail regarding Annie Ryan, but my current algorithms are used to decrease redundancy and so, since you were already aware of Miss Ryan’s injuries and had called a halt to all non-essential SI activities, the message was archived for later perusal.”  
  
Pepper sighed. “Alright.” She said. “Well then, Lily, please tell me what these developments are.”  
  
Lily looked around the room cautiously. “Patient confidentiality would-“  
  
“Would be an understandable issue under normal circumstances.” Pepper said evenly, even though she was still squeezing Tony’s shoulder and looked pale.  “And while I’m so proud of all of the actions you’ve taken to protect SI’s employees, and of the thorough and impressive job you’ve done doing so, I think that we both know that these are anything but normal circumstances. So, please,” she asked “What is going on with Annie?”  
  
~~  
  
Waking up was a huge surprise.   
  
Not that Annie was aware of that.  
  
It was hard to be aware of much, at first.   
  
There were noises, at first. Beeping. Garbled background noise. The slide of a curtain on its track. It was weird what pierced the veil of whatever drugs they had her on.  
  
Good drugs, Annie supposed, because she knew somewhere in the back of her brain that her body was… ouch. But it didn’t bother her much. She could feel something in the crook of her arm, on the back of her hand, something itchy on the side of her neck.  
  
And slowly, slow like syrup and adagio, Annie felt the sheets, the pillow under her head, the funny tube blowing air up her nose.   
  
Annie twitched her nose like a bunny. Weird.   
  
She thought that it might be weird that she hadn’t opened her eyes yet. But Annie had the thought that if she did, it’d be like the end of Lord of The Rings where it was all hazy and linen and white, and all those Hobbit guys would start jumping on her bed and she really really didn’t want to meet Sir Ian McKellen with bed head.  
  
The closed eyes meant that she heard the man sitting at her bedside clear his throat before she saw him.  
  
Well, Annie thought it was a man. Could have been a very deep-voiced lady. Could have been a gender-fluid someone, really. Annie gave herself a brief scolding for her stupid cis-gendered thinking. Smash the patriarchy, she reminded herself.   
  
“I’m-“ her voice croaked and cracked “I’m sorry I forgot to smash.”  
  
A straw was pressed to her lips, and Annie took a long drink of water. Nice and cold. Her throat was one of those background ouches. Hadn’t she been screaming?  
  
Annie opened one eye, just a crack, just a little, just to see.   
  
He looked… like a cactus. Prickly. Annie wanted to hug him.  
  
“Pretty sure Banner’s got smashing covered.” The man said. His face did a weird thing.   
  
Annie grinned.   
  
“Why don’t you focus on sleeping.” The man suggested, but it was like when her Da used to ‘suggest’ helping her mother with supper. Annie didn’t want to get grounded.   
  
Annie hummed and sank further into the bed below her. She looked back out of the crack in her eye and was caught by a sudden worry.  
  
“Can I have your eyepatch?” she asked. She brought a hand up and rubbed at her closed eye. “Mine’s broken.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Annie hummed again, the crack closing. She sank down, down, down.  
  
“Spoilsport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been on vacation for the past month, soaking up all of your kind reviews! And my gift for you.... is this cliffhanger. You are welcome. My benevolence is awe inspiring, I know. 
> 
> As per usual, not betad. Mistakes and anything you don't recognize are mine.


	7. Intermezzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a minute, but here we are.
> 
> This chapter mirrored my life this past little while, as in it was a bitch. But it's done now, and new chapters can begin now that I've got this out of the way. 
> 
> As always, unbeta'd, and if you recognize it then it isn't mine.
> 
> Thank you, lovelies, for your kind words and patience. 2016 was The Worst and I'm glad we get to leave it behind.

Bill’s Shrimp Shack was the only thing resembling a bar for about 30 miles.

  
Once, it had sat alongside an eddy of the Mississippi, deep and wide enough to actually cast a net and come up with crawfish. But the eddy had dried up, left nothing but a long line of vaguely damp earth and a few stagnant puddles. The softening earth had caused the foundation to shift and the Shack now had a visible lean to the left, it's faded paint cracking and peeling in a thousand spiders webs and the neon sign out front flashed “OPE” in fluorescent green.

  
But it had beer, a couple of tvs that miraculously picked up the satellite broadcast from the city, and servers that didn't give enough of a shit to ask questions. Money talked, even if the stranger hunched in the corner didn't.

  
The man held the beer he'd been nursing casually, but his eyes were glued to the screen above the bar where FOX was playing just loud enough to be heard over the noise inside.

  
“D’you hear what they’re calling her?”

  
The man grunted in the affirmative to his companion, but kept watching. They showed a vigil, a small mountain of candles and flowers, toys and posters all laid at the doors of a building. As was his habit, his eyes scanned from the screen to the door, across the bar and back. Repeating in an endless cycle.

  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other man shrug. Could almost hear him thinking.

  
“Might be useful, y’know.” The other man said. The harsh technicolor of the tv caught in his hair, made the blond look green and blue and red and… “And you know they're going to try and get her first.”

  
His grip on the glass tightened minutely. Tv, door, bar, repeat. He watched as the news reporter gesticulated wildly to a picture of a mosque.

  
“Might want to let me do the talking, though.” The other man sighed fondly. “Come on, buddy. Let's go. This place ain't got anything else worth drinking.”

  
He nodded, just a sharp movement of his head, and left some cash on the table. His beer had grown warm in the hour he'd spent sipping at it. It tasted like water. The other man gave him a disparaging look and he frowned.

  
“You gotta tip!” The other man exclaimed. “Buddy, you know what servers make these days? Jack shit is what. Look at the waitress, betcha she’s got a kid at home. Getting real close to Christmas and what d’you-” he tuned the man out.

  
Sometimes, the man thought as he left another five on the table, he missed the quiet.

  
*~*~*~*~

  
“So how, exactly, do you get brain cancer?”

  
The doctor looked a bit like a basset hound. The thought flitted mildly through Annie's mind, as careless as a leaf on the wind. He had big, sad brown eyes. Maybe that's why he got the job of breaking the news to people.

  
“We don't know.” He said. He fiddled with his glasses.

  
Yeah. That was why. It was hard to be angry with a basset hound.

  
“Of course you don't.” Annie sighed. She flung her head against the stack of pillows cradling her and stared hard at the ceiling, her mind an angry whirl. The doctor hadn't wasted any time on soothing words or gentle introductions.“Why the hell would anyone try to figure it out and put themselves out of a job.”

  
“Annie, I know this is rough, but we need to sit down and figure out what to do next.” Annie knew, in the back of her mind, that this was obviously not the first of these conversations that the man had had in his career. Probably wouldn't be the last. “With your permission, I'd like to consult with Dr Mathers over at NYU. He's the head of oncology and a leading expert in how to treat late stage cancers.”

  
‘Late stage’ echoed in her mind.

  
“Can't you just-” Annie swallowed against her fear. “Like, take it out? I just-”

  
I just got my life back, she wanted to say. I just survived. Don't take that from me again.  
Annie had been so, so shocked to wake up at all. And even with the hours and hours of tests, mobility, cognitive function, you name it, leaving her exhausted and bruised and battered, Annie hadn't suffered any serious effects from the attack at the Javits centre. Only some lingering muscle weakness that would fade with time and a scar on her neck from the electrical current that had passed through her.

  
Annie had thought it was a miracle.

  
But the doctor shook his head and shifted in the seat he'd dragged to her bedside.

“Unfortunately we can't.” He said. “Your cancer, your two tumours, are located deeply inside your temporal lobe. Nearly at the very centre of your brain. To remove them surgically would be incredibly risky, nearly impossible without causing major damage to the surrounding areas of your brain. Surgery could kill you, and would certainly lead to massive brain damage.”

  
Annie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heel of her palms to them. It was a joke, she thought desperately. It had to be a joke. How could she have- how could she have survived…. just to be told she was dying? Again? Just slower this time?

  
“Annie,” the doctor said, more firmly. “At this point you have two options. You start treatment immediately, or you die.”

  
Annie laughed. She laughed, and she was sure that the doctor was looking at her funny but she didn't even try to stop the low chuckle that came out. It was just… was it irony? She'd never been great at irony. That Alanis Morissette song had always annoyed her. So then was it doubly ironic that she didn't know if her situation was, in fact, ironic?

  
But below the surface, below her laughter, something was overflowing.

  
“Okay, Doc.” Annie said contemptuously . “Let me offer you some free advice. First of all,” she said, sitting back up in the bed and narrowing her gaze at the man next to her. “Dying isn't an option.” She snarled. Not for her. Not again. Annie heard her voice creak and crack and she coughed away the shake, “When you leave this room, which by the way you’re going to be doing right now, and you go see your 2:30 and you tell him that he’s dying? Just…” suddenly, the wind left her sails and Annie sighed. “Try it with a little more feeling.”

  
The doctor didn't look phased. And maybe that was proof that he was a good doctor.

  
“I'll give you some time to think, Annie.” He said unflappably, and left the room without fuss.

  
When the door shut, Annie cried.

  
It wasn't enough. Her eyes burned and her shoulders heaved, and it didn't help. Annie didn't feel better, didn't find any sort of release or catharsis. She was just left alone with the sound of her own sobs, and the feeling that every second that passed was pushing her closer and closer to an unavoidable chasm. And she would fall, and she would- she would…

  
Lord, please, Annie thought desperately, not again.

  
Eventually, the tears just stopped falling and Annie sat quiet and hollow in the stillness of the hospital room. Her mind wouldn't settle, touching only briefly on thoughts then suddenly wheeling away. Was everyone at the Javits centre okay? Had she been quick enough? How was she going to pay for treatment? She'd have to call the bank back home. She'd have to leave. Would Steve come to see her? Had he watched? When was the doctor coming back?

  
There was a tv facing the bed, but Annie couldn't see a remote. The window on the other wall had the blinds pulled shut, so Annie couldn't see out. The only other things in the room were a set of uncomfortable looking chairs and a non descript wardrobe in the corner, which left Annie to stare at the weave of the thin blankets covering her legs while falling back on old habits.

  
Mainly, biting her nails and rehearsing old lines. And of course her traitorous, stupid brain gave her nothing but Macbeth.

  
“She should have died hereafter.” Annie murmured morosely, pulling the lines from her memory. Her Da had found a beat up copy of selected Shakespeare works in a dime bin when Annie had been ten. It'd fallen apart from use by the time she turned fifteen. “There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day. To the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!” Annie winced and sighed. She laid back against the pillows once again. “Life’s but-” she hesitated and frowned when the line wouldn't come to mind. “Life's…”

  
She jumped when she heard him speak.

  
“Life's but a walking shadow,” Annie hadn't even heard the door open, nevermind noticed the man walking through it. He was a tall man, black, and dressed in black as well. Black hoodie, black boots, black eyepatch. Annie was torn between thinking he was God or the other guy, but the look in his one good eye spoke of capital letter Judgement either way. “A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot,” his delivery was excellent, but it didn't do much to put Annie at ease, especially as he moved to stand confidently at the end of her bed. “Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

  
Well.

  
“Sorry,” Annie said. “But who are you?”

  
“My name is Colonel Fury.” If he was at all put off by standing in a strangers hospital room, or phased from quoting Shakespeare with said stranger, the man didn't show it. “I work with SHIELD, and I'm here to talk about the attack.”

  
Annie's heart stuttered a beat, but she set her jaw and nodded. It made sense that someone would come to ask her about it, even if remembering what had happened set her heart racing in an echo of fear.

  
“Okay.” Annie sighed. She could do it, hopefully just this once, and she could get it over with and move on to the next horror of her life. “Okay. What would you like to know?”

  
The Colonel did not smile, or nod, and barely even blinked. “Everything.”

  
So that was what she told him. Everything. The last minute changes to security, her date with Steve, even how she'd smuggled Darcy's tazer in her bra. How she'd been weirded out by the security team, and how she'd realized too late that something was seriously wrong.

  
Throughout, Fury said nothing, but broke his silence when she had finished.

  
“How long have you been working for Stark Industries?” Fury didn't move from the foot of her bed.

  
“Uhh, six months?” Annie hoped a rough estimate would be good enough for Fury. Though, she doubted much of anything would ever be ‘good enough’ for him. It was hard to remember anything at the moment. “I think… March? Yeah, I started sometime-”

  
Fury cut her off. “And how would you describe your relationship with Miss Potts?”

  
“Professional?” Annie tried not to frown. “She's my boss. We've never been close, exactly.” Hard to be close to a woman who barely recognizes your existence, she resolutely did not add.

  
“Alright.” Fury nodded. Still. He stayed perfectly still, like some sort of fucked up robot. “What about your family? Are you close with them?”

  
That old familiar thing in Annie's chest squeezed and rolled, and she swallowed. “I don't have anyone left to be close to.” She admitted.

  
Annie couldn't make sense of the questions, but she couldn't tell if that was because of how tired she was, or if this was just how these sorts of things went. If Fury was a colonel, surely that meant he'd know what he was doing.

  
He nodded again. “How would you describe your childhood?”

  
Annie hesitated. Her childhood? What the hell? “Average.”

  
“Average.” Fury repeated. One of his eyebrows ticked upward. “Nothing worth mentioning? You had an utterly unremarkable upbringing?”

  
“Is that so hard to believe?” Something was weird, Annie realized. She hoped it was just a vibe that Fury gave off, but still she found herself trying to surreptitiously look to the closed door. “I guess you guys are used to like… gods and aliens and shit, but it's not that weird to have a normal childhood. I fell down a mineshaft once? But that's about as crazy as it gets. I just broke my arm, though. I didn't get any weird powers.”

  
Colonel Fury didn't look convinced, and Annie's head began to throb.

  
“Just what does my childhood have to do with what happened, anyway?” Annie pressed into the silence that Fury left hanging. “I didn't grow up with any of them, the Servants. There were like, two hundred people in my town. You get to know your neighbours that way, you know? You'd know if any of them were really crazy. And I sure as hell didn't recognize the guy I-”

  
“Miss Ryan,” Colonel Fury interrupted her without pause. His face was unreadable. “Do you believe in God?”

  
And suddenly Annie knew exactly what was going on.

  
Lord almighty, Annie thought. It felt like she'd been punched. In the daze of her realization, she knew, he thought she was one of them. He thought she had helped them. To the right, Annie could see the door, still shut tight. This wasn't even a good cop bad cop ploy. The sunovabitch didn't think he needed a good cop, thought he had her pinned and cornered so tight that she'd confess with just a few well timed questions.

  
Next to her bed, her heart rate monitor spiked with a series of loud beeps. Annie watched the Colonel's eye flick over to it, then back to her face.

  
“Yes.” Annie spat out the truth and stared the man down. Yes, she believed in god, even after all of this. Not the god that the Servants had claimed to serve, and probably not the god she'd been taught about in Sunday mass, but Annie refused to think that this, all that she'd been put through, had just been by chance. If she was going to get shit on, Annie wanted to believe that there was a plan behind it. And Annie would be damned if she gave the man the satisfaction of hearing her lie, even if the truth were damning.

  
“My job here, Miss Ryan,” Fury said imperiously “Is to gather the facts of the situation, and use those facts to insure the continued safety of the people under SHIELD’s protection. SHIELD is a global organization, Miss Ryan, which means that's a hell of a lot of people I'm responsible for. So, would you like to know what I see here?”

  
“About half the room?” Annie muttered. Fury paused, and for a moment looked … well, furious.

  
“I see a young person with no close contacts, who moved to a strange city with little warning and who has failed at every attempt they've made to succeed. Someone who was unable to connect with anyone they work with. I know the names they call you, _Mouse_.”

Annie flinched and focused her stare on his sternum. It wasn't like she didn't know what people at work, what she'd even heard Miss Potts and Mr Stark call her. What they thought of her. It was too hard to look him in the eye and show him her hurt. “I see six months of being alone, of feeling beat down and maybe a little angry, a little _marginalized_.”

  
True. Annie thought. She clenched her fists in the bed sheets until her knuckles were white. Oh god, he wasn't wrong, but it was so wrong. Annie's spine shook, and she felt her face flush. Oh god. It all sounded so believable, so easy to accept.

  
“And here's where I can start to put the pieces together.” Annie grabbed at the sheets again. “So there's two ways we can do this. I can keep digging, and use the tools at my disposal to rip my way to the information I need, or you can tell me just when exactly you were diagnosed with these tumours and when, after that, you came in contact with the Servants-”

  
_How dare he._

  
“Get out.” Annie muttered, eyes fixed to her knees. She could feel her face flushing as the blood rushed to her head.

  
Fury sighed. “This is a matter of international security, Miss Ryan, and if you-”

  
If it had been a movie, or a play, or- hell, a bit-part in CSI then Annie would have had a comeback. Some sort of witty, petty, utterly soul-scathing and well rehearsed retort that would have left Fury aghast and agape against Annie's obviously superior intellect. He'd get served like a well cooked Sunday roast, and Annie would be left with the memory of how she put this James Bond wannabe in his place.

  
But that was not what happened.

  
Instead, Annie screeched like a pterodactyl being put through a rusty meat grinder and flung the nearest moveable object at his head.

  
Her bedpan.

  
The clang of it as it ricocheted off of his stupid face to the wall beside him was satisfying, but not satisfying enough for Annie to stop screaming.

  
“Out!” Her throat burned, but Annie kept at it even as Fury turned, huge and terrifying, to loom over her bed again. “Get the fuck out! You! Mother-goddamned- get out! The fuck! Out! I didn't fucking… lord thundering Jesus H Christ I did _not_ die for this _shit_!”

  
When he didn't move, Annie scrambled for something else nearby and a cup filled with ice chips flew across the room.

  
He dodged the cup, but not the ice.

  
“Get the fuckout!” Annie kept screaming, and Fury kept glaring, so Annie just screamed louder and in her blind rage, reached for the side table again.

  
“What's going on-”

  
She threw the hospital-issued cordless phone (and its base) just as the door opened, and while the the handset of the phone missed Fury by inches, the base veered wildly to the right and hit Steve on the jaw. He barely flinched, though he looked adorably shocked that something had hit him.

  
“OUT!” Annie howled. She felt her throat tighten, and blinked stiffly to fend off her tears. Across the room, she caught sight of Steve’s concerned face and that only wanted to make her cry more. She couldn't believe that he'd come to visit her, but… Had he known? He worked with SHIELD. Did that mean that he thought she was… that he thought she had-

“Out! The pair of you!”

  
A hurt look flashed across Steve’s face, and that was it. That tore it. Annie was done. KO’d. Utterly spent. She'd died once, was dying again, was suspected of terrorism, and she'd managed to hurt Captain America's feelings. They might as well have left her dead.  
One last shriek from her was apparently enough for Steve to get the message, and she was distantly grateful as he somehow managed to wrangle a protesting Fury out of her room, closing the door firmly behind the two of them and leaving Annie alone once more.

  
She cried until she fell into an exhausted sleep, and when she woke she cried again. Annie couldn't imagine that she could have cried as much if she hadn't been hooked up to an IV drip. She probably would have needed one afterward. How could there be that much water in the human body? Still, eventually Annie just laid curled in the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

  
A few hours later, after another nap, there was a brisk knock at the door and before Annie could feel too much dread seep into her bones, a cheery faced nurse stepped into the room.

In the brief moment it took for her to open and close the door behind her, Annie's eye caught a flash of colour in the hallway. It had been quick, but Annie was sure of what she'd seen and it sent her mind skittering in all directions.

  
The nurse went about her duties with a friendly smile, took her vitals and made soft approving noises as she did so.

  
“Heartbeat’s good.” She said. Annie hummed distractedly. Her gaze drifted to the door. “There's been some small arrhythmias, but considering recent events you're doing great! You're doing well enough to get off the drip, I'd say. How does that sound?”

  
Annie laughed a little. “Sounds really, really good.”

  
The nurse removed the IV and taped up the wound, but left the heartbeat monitor running.   
“You're looking good, all things considered, and as far as this visit goes you're pretty much in the clear aside from observation.” She said, making a few notes on Annie's chart. “Ideally, we want you here for a few more hours, just to make sure, but after that I'd give you the all clear to go home. No strenuous activity for a few more days, but after that your heart should be back to normal. Now, I'd like to check your back.”

  
Annie let the nurse help her lean forward in the bed, and shivered as the back of her gown was undone at the neck.

  
“Our clinic has access to some of the most advanced medical technology available,” the nurse said, as she palpated Annies back. “And I know I don't have to say it, but you're a very lucky lady. Your back had some pretty severe lacerations when you arrived at the clinic, but we were able to use one of those advanced treatments to actually regenerate your skin's tissue, which means it's smooth as a baby's butt back here.” Annie could feel every slight change of pressure of her hands, the odd texture of the gloves she wore. Everything was hypersensitive, but she was relieved to realize that nothing hurt.

  
“Your neck is another story.” The nurse said when she was done with Annie's back. Annie listened with half an ear. Her neck didn't matter much in the long run, really. Annie was pretty sure she didn't have a long run to worry about. “I know you haven't been able to see, but there's a fairly large mark there from where the current moved through your blood vessels.” Annie was more concerned with the short term, like what was waiting for her in the hallway… “It burst the ones closest to the surface, but the effect is almost purely cosmetic and should fade with time, alright?”

  
“Uh huh.” Annie said.

  
The nurse grinned and made a few last notes on her chart. “He's been sitting out there for hours.” She commented. Annie felt her face grow hot. “Now If I had a man like that waiting outside my door I know exactly what I'd be doing. But if you want him gone, honey, I can take care of it for you.” She said kindly.

  
“No, it's-” Annie wasn't exactly sure just what it was, but she blew a long breath out of her nose and tried to straighten up in the bed. “It's fine. He can…” she muttered “he can come in. If he wants.”

  
“Mhmm.” The nurse left with a knowing look, and Annie had barely a moment alone before there was a quiet knock on the door, like Annie hadn't been the one to invite him in.  
Honestly, that man.

  
Still, it left Annie a little bit breathless to see Steve walk in the room with a delicate bunch of flowers in hand. She'd seen those first, in the hallway, the spray of pink and peach and white.

  
“You didn't have to.” She said, immediately, and meant more than the flowers.

  
Steve smiled ruefully and gave a little shrug. He closed the door behind him. “I remember how awful hospitals can be.” There wasn't a vase, so he opened the blinds and propped them against the window, then pulled one of the chairs over to her bed and sat. To be fair, Annie could see that he did look uncomfortable, though a dark part of her insisted that it wasn't just the room that was making him that way. “I swear they've been this colour beige since before Coolidge was president.”

  
“I didn't know they had colour back then.” Annie was on shaky ground here, not sure what kind of footing she had or where she could step without sending everything crashing down around her, but the joke had left her mouth before she could think.

  
“Ouch.” He feigned a wound to his chest and grinned. Annie felt herself relax, just a fraction, and let herself hope, just a bit, that Steve didn't believe what Fury was saying. Somehow, Annie hoped that Steve knew her better than that. “Cheap shot.”

  
“They're beautiful, by the way.” Annie said, quietly looking to the flowers. If he'd picked them himself, she was impressed. Most men stuck with roses, or daisies, or an even dozen identical blossoms. Steve had brought her tulips, and a half dozen other small flowers that she couldn't name, all ringed with babies breath and other greenery. “Thank you. It's- it's very sweet of you.”

  
“I'm glad you like them.” Steve smiled softly, and Annie watched the tips of his ears go pink. “I wanted to give them to you earlier, but…”

  
Annie blushed and groaned. She covered her face with a hand and laughed. “Oh god, I am so sorry.” She said. “I didn't mean to hit you.”

  
Steve laughed too, but then his gaze turned serious. “I'm the one who's sorry, Annie.” He said “I had no idea that Fury was coming to question you. You shouldn't have been alone like that.”

  
Annie frowned. “Would not being alone have changed his questions?” She asked “Because he said that he thinks I'm a terrorist, Steve. And I'm not an idiot. I know that if this Fury guy thinks it, that SHIELD must think so too, right?” It wasn't like, a huge leap to make, and when Steve winced, Annie felt her heart sink.

  
“Fury, he- he shouldn't have put it like that.” Steve sighed. “There's just been a few things that aren't... adding up right.”

  
“Just adding up to me being in league with the people who took me hostage?” Annie pressed. Her stomach churned. “Is that why you're here? To soften me up, since Fury couldn't get a confession out of me?”

  
“God, no.” Steve leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Annie suddenly realized how tired he looked. And it made sense. What had happened at the Javits centre had been an attack on American soil. Of course the Avengers would have been dealing with the fallout. “No, I don't- I believe you, Annie,” he promised “And so will everyone else once we figure out just what is going on. I swear, I'm going to figure it out, okay?” He leaned forward again, and sent her heart swooping when he reached and took her hand in his. She believed him.

  
Annie felt a moment of joy, but it all came crashing down again in the next breath because she knew… she knew.... Still, she couldn't seem to take her hand away from his soft, strong grip.

  
“If you're not here on business, Steve,” she asked haltingly “Then why are you here?”

  
There was no right answer, Annie realized, and held her breath anyway.

  
Steve ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, one by one. “I wanted to see you.” he grinned ruefully, and his hand flexed around hers. “I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”

  
A sort of mild terror gripped Annie, and she panicked.

  
“See, but, I'm not okay Steve.” Annie blurted. “Whatever you're gonna- just, hold on, before you-” she took a breath and tried to reign in her runaway mouth. How was someone supposed to say it? There wasn't any time for tact, so Annie just went with blunt. “I’ve got cancer. I-I didn't know, you know, before… but the doctor said it's in my brain, and they can't operate, and I just…” she sniffled.

  
“Hey, hey…” Steve pulled an honest to God handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her when she started crying. She wiped at her eyes. “I know. Okay? I know.”

  
“You know?” Of course he knew, part of her argued. Fury knew. Steve knows. Hell, the whole world probably knew her blood pressure now, since SHIELD was so damned interested.

  
Another part was surprised. He knew, it whispered, he knew and he came anyway.

  
“Look,” Annie lifted her head and found him staring thoughtfully at their joined hands. “I really like you, Annie.” He said. Annie snorted inelegantly and he grinned. He raised his other hand and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “No fooling, I do.”

  
Annie stared at him for a moment. “You barely know me!” She protested, her mind awash with visions of heartbreaks to come. He might be the sweetest man alive, but someone had to… she had to be logical about the whole thing. “We had one date, Steve. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to keep it to that. You don't need to feel… obligated.”

  
“It's not anything like that, Annie.” Steve assured her. “And I don't even- I mean I don't expect that you would even want to have any sort of relationship right now. But you…” he hesitated for a moment. “You're kind.” He said, so earnestly that it sent Annie reeling. “And you're brave. Incredibly brave, and you're smart and funny… gorgeous,” he tacked on, like it was obvious. “And I'm no genius, but I'd be a damned fool if I didn't let you know that I thought so.”

  
“Oh, _Steve_.” Annie murmured. She wondered how a person could be torn between such extremes, because her heart was flying and plummeting all at once. “I like you too. I like you a lot.” She admitted with a broken laugh. “But I couldn't- I mean if we did this, tried to date, and then I… if I died? I couldn't do that to you. And I can't ask you to make me any promises that you can't keep! What if one day you realize that it's too much, dating someone this sick? I don't think-” Annie suddenly found her throat tight. “You could end up breaking my heart, and I only just got it beating again. I really do like you Steve, but I don't think I can date _anyone_ right now.”

  
Steve squeezed her hand, and didn't let go, but stared down at it thoughtfully. Annie let herself lean back into the pillows at her back. That was it then, she guessed. What could have been the best date she'd ever been on, maybe the greatest boyfriend she could have had, all foiled by her traitorous body.

  
“I'm not even sure if I'm going to stay in New York,” Annie admitted into the silence between them. “I've heard about how crazy medical bills can be here, and I have no idea how to even start to navigate that. At least back home I wouldn't have a Visa to deal with as well. I think I need to start picking my battles.” She sighed.

  
When Steve let go of her hand, Annie did her best not to feel the loss too keenly, and focused on his bittersweet smile instead.

  
“Well, as a friend, from what I've seen, I doubt there's a battle you can't win.” He said, and Annie knew that he'd understood. Friends. Even if she wanted...

  
“Flatterer.” She said instead, and tried to smile back.

  
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He said simply. “Though I gotta say, if you think Tony is going to let you ship back off home without at least a consultation with the world's best doctors, you're in for a surprise.”

  
Annie rolled her eyes. “Mr Stark barely registers my presence. I doubt he's gonna care one way or the other where or when I go. And even if he does? I can't say that I'll take what he offers.” She said bitterly.

  
Steve frowned. “He knows who you are, Annie.”

  
“Oh I'm sure he'd recognize me,” Annie said quickly “Now, after everything that's happened. But before? Even though I work directly with the CEO of his company, his girlfriend, and interact with him at least once a week? I doubt he'd even remember my name.” It hurt to admit, but the truth sat heavy in Annie's chest, and refused to be ignored.

  
“Tony can be… insensitive.” Steve agreed, though the small furrow of his brow stayed firmly put. “But I've never known him to be malicious.”

  
“I'm the help.” Annie shrugged. “It's not… I'm sure they don't mean to be dismissive. It's the same with Miss Potts, nearly. I know what they think of me.”

  
Steve shook his head, baffled. “Well, when Tony comes offering your own wing at Bellevue, don't say I didn't warn you. Tony’s a businessman.” Steve said with a shrug. “At the end of the day, it all comes down to checks and balances. When you- when you did what you did, you saved most of the city. Hundreds of thousands of people, everyone who works in this building. The part that really matters to Tony, though, is that you saved Pepper.”

  
Annie’s breath hitched. Damn.  
  
“In his mind, he owes you and because he’s Tony Stark, he’s not going to stop until he thinks he’s paid you back in full. And that’s just Tony. Do you think Pepper is just going to let you leave without a word?” he questioned. “I bet they’re already planning on inviting you to live here, you know.” Steve said conspiratorially “Tony’ll offer to get you the best doctors, pay for your treatments… Pepper’ll offer to promote you, triple your salary... and it’d be dumb move to say no because none of it is charity. I used to think- well,” his expression was dry “I wasn’t used to anyone having enough money to be frivolous, let alone throw it around like Tony does. Tony is generous with his money, but that doesn’t mean that he gives it out of pity. He gives when he sees potential, opportunity for his money to do some good when people have the guts to give their all. So, say yes?” He asked. “Say yes and save yourself the headache of Tony bribing and bullying you into it. Say it and use this amazing opportunity to knock your cancer sideways. Just, say yes.” He urged. Annie’s heart clenched tightly when she felt him cover her hand in his again. He was so warm. “Take it from me. 24 isn’t a good year for dying. It’s a better year for coming back.”  
  
Annie supposed he would know. Of anyone else, Steve would know because he had survived too.

  
“Would-” he asked, when she stayed quiet, looking worried. “Would you really say no?”

  
“To my own wing?” Annie joked lamely.

  
“Seriously.”

  
Annie opened her mouth, refusal already on her tongue when the implication of just what she'd be saying no to smacked her. Would she say no? She didn't hate Mr Stark, or Miss Potts, and her pride wasn't so fragile that she couldn't accept help when she needed it.

  
And the 173 dollars in her bank account after she paid rent was a sure sign that she needed it. She could barely afford to get back to Canada, let alone start paying for treatments...

  
“I refuse to believe that I survived… all of this,” Annie gestured to her neck, like it could convey ‘killed myself to defy a terrorist’ in one movement. “Just to lay down roll over and die because I couldn't get over my own ego that people at work didn't like me much. If someone wants to help me fight this,” she decided as she spoke. “Whether it's my own hospital wing or just getting me some Jello, I'd be a right idiot if I told ‘em no.”

  
Steve smiled, and Annie smiled, and for a moment Annie let hope light in her heart.

  
To Annie's delight, Steve actually did offer to go find her something to eat, though he warned her off of the Jello in the medical centre. Instead he promised to return with coffee and a few snacks to see her through the last hour or so of her observation. Annie wasn't sure where she was going to go once she was released. Mostly she doubted that she would be allowed to go anywhere without SHIELD sticking their noses in. If she were honest, though, the prospect of spending the night alone in her dank Harlem walk-up with nothing but her own thoughts made her nauseous.

  
A few minutes after Steve left, though, a different knock sounded at her door.

  
“Mr Stark.” She watched as he shuffled into her room, hands deep in the pockets of his suit pants.

  
“Nice digs.” He said as he made his way to the window. Stark caught sight of the flowers and poked one of the white tulips. “Private room, southern exposure. Not exactly the Plaza… though come to think of it I can remember waking up a few afternoons wishing for a saline drip. But you're good?” He questioned casually and Annie saw exactly when he noticed the pieces of the phone laying on the floor. He quirked an eyebrow and picked up a chunk of plastic. “Comfy?”

  
“Just fine, Mr Stark.” Annie wished that Miss Potts had come with him. She knew how to behave when Miss Potts was around. So, for lack of frame of reference she diverted to old habits. Keeping her head down and hoping for the best. “No complaints.”

  
“Who are the flowers from?” He asked. His eyes flicked back to the bouquet, but his hands were busy as they fiddled with the bit of broken phone. “Pep’s had all your other arrangements rerouted to the tower. We're running out of counter space, but she said that she didn't think all that pollen would do you any good. It'd smell like a jungle in here. We've got a killer filtration system here, though. 99.999% of particulate removed. You could carpet bomb this place in dander and no one would notice. Are you allergic?”

  
“To dander?” Annie asked, unable to follow along with his train of thought. Miss Potts made it look easy.

  
“To flowers.” Stark continued, still fiddling. “We weren't sure. Pep and me. We usually send flowers, or edible arrangements if the person has an allergy.”

  
“No, I-” Annie frowned. Did they have people come back from the dead often? “I'm not allergic to anything.”

  
“Cool.” He said.

  
Everything fell into an odd, awkward silence.

  
“Mr Stark,” Annie prompted, wondering just where the hell Steve was. “Is there something I can do for you, or…?”

  
Stark's entire body language shifted and stilled, and he looked at her almost as if he was examining something.

  
“You're fired.”

  
Oh.

  
“Oh.” Annie breathed. That wasn't what Steve had- “Oh… okay. Yes, Mr Stark.” She said. A sudden fear gripped her that Steve was wrong. Mr Stark wasn’t going to do anything. Pepper would just thank her, hug her, maybe shake her hand and say how sorry she was and then Annie would be gone-

  
“Good. Glad that’s understood. Now, just because you don’t work for me doesn’t mean that I’m not the boss of you.” Stark said, interrupting her thoughts. “You owe me, kid.”  
  
“Owe you?” Annie blinked at him and wondered if her confusion could be played off as side effects from being… well, dead. Or maybe the tumors. Might as well use the damned things.  
  
“You saved Pepper’s life. That’s my job.” Tony said, flippantly. He paced between the window and the door. “Way above your pay grade. So, the way I figure, now you owe me a life. Understood?”  
  
Yeah. Definitely going to play the brain tumor card.  
  
Tony hummed and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's like this… the doc told me about the tumors.” Annie wanted to scream. Did America just not have personal medical privacy? “I’m gonna guess that Cap already knows, which is why you’ve got that tasteful arrangement on the windowsill. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Tony said, his voice suddenly losing its hard edge. “Its fucked up. Cancer’s shit. But, it gave me an idea. We’re going to do this Ancient Babylonian Style. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. King Hammurabi will weep with pleasure.”

  
“Mr Stark.” Annie started to protest but he just waved his hand imperiously.  
  
“Anyway, back to business,” said Tony. “I’ve picked the one I want. The life.” He fixed Annie with a look “Yours.”  
  
“You want me to give you my life.” Annie said slowly. She tried to remember that Tony Stark was a genius, and sometimes that meant that he was absolutely impossible.  
  
“You say it like it’s a question, kid.” Tony knelt at the side of her bed, dirtying the knees of his suit without a care. His eyes were intense, leaving Annie feeling scrutinized and hollowed out and confident all in one. “Yes. I want you to give me your life. Because you owe me. So,” he said patiently. “You are going to live in my tower, eat my food, watch my movies, go to my doctors and get the treatments that I will pay for. You are going to give me your life and, dammit Annie,” she was shocked to see the fire in his eyes bank higher “Just like you saved Peppers’, I am going to do my goddamned best to save yours.”

 


End file.
